Monday, April 23, 2018

One last walk

We put it off for over a month, but today seemed the day to do it. Sunny, in the 60's, a nice breeze.

So, we took one last walk with Bela.

I divided his ashes into two bags and Bern and I went down the hill to the Farmington Canal where we walked him once a day for most of the days of his life. If it wasn't icy or raining--and sometimes even when it was--I would put him in my car or Bern would put him her truck and we'd 'go walk the Canal'.

I cut a small hole in my bag and simply walked, letting Bela's ashes scatter along the side of the concrete walk way. Bern did it differently. She used her right hand and scatted ashes in certain places that meant something to her. And she brought some of her ashes home to scatter in the backyard.

We said not a word on the way down or back or during the walk on the Canal. It was solemn and moving--beyond words. Holy.

One last walk like thousands before, but none quite like today's.

(When I got home I noticed I had spilled a few ashes when I divided them. They were on my Bible.
I didn't notice spilling them or where--but that was as good a place to find them as any.)

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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.