I had to dig up my father-in-law last weekend.
No really.
It was Father's Day and my significant other's mother insisted. The other sisters, (three), are married to men, so somehow it fell to the gay daughter to do the rather sketchy work of digging up dad. I'm not saying it's because she is "the gay one" and I'm not saying that the others had something better to do with their butch and not-so-butch husbands... I am saying, that for whatever the reason, there we were, us two girls, standing with shovels of some sort, in the overgrown back corner of the back yard, right dab-smack dead-center of the pet cemetery.
I know that "remains" can be a touchy subject, but I think there is an important lesson here. Many of us still have living parents, and what I am about to recount to you, might just help you enormously in the future. I know that I will be sparing a thought or two to where my mother and father finally rest. Especially after last weekend.
You see, when Sig's father died, not much thought had gone into what to do with him. It's strange, he had a lingering illness and spent many months in the hospital, but I don't think that people routinely think about that step after "the final step." At least I don't believe that Sig's family did. Well, I know they didn't. Once his earthly remains came back from the crematorium, it seemed that everyone was at a loss.
He loved horse-racing... "how about the track?" He worked in cement "how about the inside of a cement truck?" He loved animals "How about the Humane Society?" And then it struck everyone, mom would be in the family home until her just rewards, all of their beloved pets were buried there- why not dad as well? It was the perfect idea! They would bury him in the pet cemetery amidst his wiener dog and many cats.
I myself was not crazy about this idea. Call it a premonition, call it being creeped out after having seen the Stephen King movie Pet Cemetery, I just didn't like the idea. What if.... what if....but I gave in to feeling silly and an outsider and watched as the family had one of the son-in-laws lovingly lay him to rest inside a nice box, down in the pet cemetery. Well, okay, I really didn't watch. No one did. After "dad" was laid to rest and covered appropriately, we all went out while a few words were spoken. I thought it weird that the resting spot was so close to where the kitty litter used to be dumped- but again, I said nothing. That was nearly three years ago. As time went on, I began to see the wisdom of it. This way, mom could go out every day that she wanted to and talk to dad, she could live out her remaining days tending the yard, talking to dad and minding the pet cemetery. She even found yard help to assist her with the troublesome spots each spring. So, this spring when the weather got better, it was no surprise to see her out in the yard directing a helper as to where to plant- A REAL ESTATE SIGN!!
After nearly three years, she had new life breathed into her bereaving soul- and she was outta there!! She was moving into the house across the street and family home- shcamly home! The house sold like that, but what the new owners didn't know, is they were getting dear old dad in the bargain as well!
At first mom was of the mind to just let him RIP with his new family. Her daughters finally convinced her, siting scenario after scenario of what could happen if major landscaping was undertaken, that he had to be dealt with, and dealt with before closing. Finally she gave in- and this is how Sig and I found ourselves, shovels in hand, sneaking around the back yard of the "old" family home.
You don't exactly want people to know what you are up to when you are doing something like this. I myself was dressed like a cat-burglar gone Goth. Sig was a bit more pragmatic, wearing a wife-beater t-shirt and shorts. Since it was around 80 degrees that day, I opted to remove the skullcap about 10 minutes into the dig. Here's the problem: we couldn't find him.
We dug. We dug again. We dug over here, over there, over here again. I dug deeper. I dug so deep you could have buried me and a Volkswagen- still no dad. "What does he look like?" Sig asked her mom. "You don't remember what your father looks like?" mom anguished. "No mom, I mean what is he in?" "Well, he's in a box."
At this point, I am thinking to myself, that horrible children's song about "the worms crawl in..." etc. I know it's horrible, but I couldn't help it. We had covered every part of the back forty and no dad. Now I hear "he's in a box" and I know that brother-in-law of mine and I am thinking "box" means the cardboard thingamajiggy he was mailed home from the crematorium in! How long do you think cardboard buried in dirt lasts in the Pacific Northwest? Hmmmm? I am trying to figure out how to put a beautiful, romantic spin on the fact that dad has become one with the kitty litter when suddenly Sig grabs ahold of something and pulls. It is a thick plastic bag. And, with no fanfare, out pops dad.
"That son-of-a $#@$%$" says mom under her breath. "He didn't put him in anything, he just tossed him down in a hole in the bag they sent his ashes home in!" Boy. I did not want to be my brother-in-law in the near future. I tried to smooth her dander. "It's okay, look he's perfectly safe in there!" I chortle happily. "Good thing I wasn't a quarter inch to the left or I would have sliced clean threw him," Sig counters. Great. so much for peacemaking.
So, at last we have dad. Now what to do with him. And so it begins. "He loved the Eola Inn, maybe we could throw him off the balcony there." "Too much wind, it would blow back on the people out there eating." "What about the fairgrounds, he loved the fair..." "It's closed right now, you would have to wait until it opened in August."
And so, once again with no accolades, dad was buried in the new back forty. right in the corner, next to the water meter, where mom will (hopefully) live out her life. He still didn't have a box, that plastic looks like it could survive a nuclear holocaust and, as for dad, what does he care? As for last remains in general, I guess the key word is that they are remains. I advise any and all to take note of that fact before planting, potting, or sprinkling anyone near and dear.
Till next time-
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