I flew to Boston for a visit. And to drive to Ogunquit (Maine) to add Rob’s ashes to the ocean as he requested. He was very specific about where, a special cove off Marginal Way, a path we had walked numerous times from Ogunquit Beach to Perkins Cove. Apparently the timing was right for me as I felt purposeful and calm.
It was low tide and there were people at the water’s edge. I waded into the water and walked around some large rocks so I would not be in sight of the people. Opened the bag and poured the ashes into the ocean. They swirled around me in the water as the gentle waves came and went. And finally dispersed. Peaceful.
I then drove with my friend to the main beach, parked and walked the beach for a while. As Rob and I had done so many times. Ate lunch at one of “our” places and then drove over to Perkins Cove and wandered in and out of shops for a while before heading home.
I remember thinking about doing this for a long time. Never before felt I could. Now I have. It will be 6 years this September. No tears. Maybe later but I don’t think so. Been saying Kaddish (the Jewish prayer for the dead) every Friday night at services, and thru the High Holidays last year. It changed things. I’ve changed things. I’ve changed.
The next day I went into Boston to meet an old friend at the MFA. Drive in was a familiar one. And then I was rerouted due to construction through our first neighborhood. And found myself noting places as I drove by: the Theatre Rob studied at, the neighborhood restaurant we ate at (amazingly still there), the T, the colleges.
On the way back to my friend's house (just around the corner from "our" house) traffic was intense so I exited and took local roads. And where did these roads lead me? Past The Hospital! Then onto the route we took oh so many times to and from said hospital. Again I noted all the associations and memories along the way. Places we liked, places we stopped at, places where the Great Blue Herons rousted.
All these places no longer had emotional attachments. No overwhelming grief. I could be detached and go through a check list of memories. Like the ashes swirling around my feet in the ocean, observing beautiful patterns.
