Since there was no means of delivering my dear mother's ashes to the crematorium, and most of my siblings seemed unaware of the importance of this transition, I bravely contacted the crematorium again. Interestingly there seemed to be a shift of power and control. I was told it would be perfectly all right for me to do the scattering and just to say when I would like to go and complete the process.
There is no time like now! I booked an appointment for the following day, when my daughter and I would be visiting Stratford-on-Avon to see the latest production of Hamlet. It felt right and proper, since my mother was a professional dancer, and also the model for the famous Canadian sculpture of Mother Canada, mourning her dead children, at Vimy Ridge in northern France.
The gardens of the crematorium were just beautiful and peaceful, the bulbs just coming our through the last vestiges of the snow. We scattered mother's ashes in the same place as my father's, and will plant some aconite bulbs when the ground gets softer.
I have also arranged for one of the crematorium's owl boxes to be situated nearby as my fathers emblem was an owl. The ritual is now complete.
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