Ashes To Ashes

I held my palms to the heat of the fire as the wind whispered softly through the trees. Looking around, I saw that everyone was already asleep in their bags near the pit. I was the last one awake and that was okay. I haven’t had much sleep in the last two weeks or so. It was peaceful and quiet here after such a hectic time and I appreciate the solitude.

It was Larry’s idea that we make the trip and all had agreed that it was what we needed to do. Our mission was clear. Early this morning, with backpacks on, the five of us started up the mountain, knowing we would reach the top of the ridge by dinner time. Then, after sleeping under the stars, we would complete our mission at sunrise tomorrow. The hike had been grueling but we all knew there was no choice. It was what he would want.

Judy and Samantha and I met in kindergarten and developed a bond that was unbreakable. Throughout the years, we made other friends but we were the “three musketeers”. Our houses were only blocks from each other so we would meet in the park nearby and walk to school together every morning, giggling and fanaticizing all the way. When we were a bit older we went to the movies together almost every Friday night, adoring and trying to emulate whoever was the star on the walk home. On weekend, we had sleepovers. As we aged our nighttime conversations evolved from things we wanted to do or be when we grew up until they were nearly always about boys we’d met at school. It was in our senior year that the real connection with Larry, John, and Mike developed.

Larry was a quiet, intelligent person. I sat next to him in our philosophy class and found myself intrigued whenever he would speak. Even the teacher enjoyed the discussions with Larry and respected his opinions. Larry was very much a deep thinker. His favorite topic to discuss was religion and he knew more than anyone I’d ever met. One night when Judy, Sam and I were at the park after our Friday movie, he happened by. I invited him over and introduced him to my friends. We ended up staying at the park way past our curfew. From then on, we all made a point of meeting in the park.

John was an artist. He would spend hours a day in his potters shed and come out with the most beautiful urns and when he wasn’t doing that, you could find him sketching or painting. His works were hung around the school with pride. Judy also was quite creative so her connection with John developed over time. Soon John was also meeting with us in the park.

Mike transferred to our school from out-of-town. I met him one night after cheerleading practice. Football practice had broken up about the same time and as Judy, Sam and I headed homeward, there he was walking right in front of us. Judy struck up a conversation with him and he kept walking and talking with us. I found myself rather tongue-tied. He was quite tall and very muscular. He had dark brown wavy hair and eyes the color of the ocean. At one point, he spoke to me and our eyes met. I blushed and found I could hardly speak. It was so embarrassing. After he headed off in the direction of his home, Judy and Sam teased me to no end. After that Mike was also part of our Friday night group.

We all graduated from high school in June of 1970, most of us anticipating college in the fall. Larry, Mike, Sam and I were going to attend Berkeley together and John and Judy wanted to pursue their own artistic endeavors so we found a house where we could all live together. The times were tumultuous at best. Away from our parental influences, our true selves developed. We opened our house to others who would come to stay for days or weeks or even months. There was a constant flow of people in and out of the house.

At the end of two years, we all agreed it was time to move away from Berkeley. Mike and John went on a search and found an old lodge in the nearby mountains. There was a creek flowing through the property that emptied into a lovely pond surrounded by oak and pine trees. The lodge needed a bit of work but Mike had developed good carpentry skills while growing up. It was a difficult decision to leave college but we all wanted and needed a simpler lifestyle and moving to the lodge would give us that.

The lodge was a log-style home with three bedrooms in the loft, and a huge living room that had an open fireplace. We found furnishings in the nearby village
when it came time to go to college, we all went to Berkeley. When Mike and I were married in the summer of ’72, they were the only attendees at our small ceremony on the rock at the top of Styx Mountain. We all loved being in the mountains and especially together. We were a family bonded by our love of nature, peace, and each other so getting married in the mountains was a given.

It was 26 years ago that the six of us had hiked up this very trail. When we arrived at the top, Judy, Sam, and I went behind a couple large trees to change into wedding attire. My “gown” consisted of a soft white peasant top that had embroidered pastel flowers along the u-shaped neckline and it flowed nicely over my blue jeans and hiking boots. Along the trail, Sam and Judy had picked wild flowers, securing a few with soft pink ribbons in my long, thick dark hair. They also tied a few together for a bouquet.

Larry served as our minister, John was the best man. When the girls pronounced me ready, they walked over to where the men were gathered. Everyone began to hum and finally broke into song. “I’ll walk in the rain by your side….” It was a John Denver song, our song, Mike’s and mine. As I stepped from behind the tree, my eyes locked with Mike’s. I saw his momentary intake of breath and then the smile that took over his face. This was perfect. I walked slowly, taking in all the sounds and landscape around me.

The spot we had chosen was a flat rock that looked out over the green valley below. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, especially at sunset with the sky lighted in color. As I stepped onto the rock, Larry smiled at me. I turned and gazed into Mike’s deep ocean-blue eyes. His shoulder length dark wavy hair moved gently in the slight breeze. I handed my bouquet to Sam and then Mike took both of my hands. Larry began, “Dear friends, we are here to witness the joining of hands and of hearts…”

What a wonderful time it was, the six of us living together in the lodge. We all pitched in and helped each other. While the men worked carpentry jobs in the area, we women spent most of our time tending to the large garden from which we gathered most of our food. Most evenings were spent sitting on the veranda that spanned the front of the lodge sipping home-made wine while watching the artwork that was the sunset. Then we’d move indoors and nestle around the fireplace. Sometimes we’d talk or sing but often we’d just enjoy the silence together.

When Mike and I’d been married for about two years, the silence was shattered with shouts of joy. I was pregnant and the entire group started “mothering” me. It was “our baby” not just Mike’s and mine. Everyone wanted to share in the experience.

As my belly grew, so did our love. Mike would lie in bed at night and rub where the baby was, talking or singing to it. It quickly became part of our family. Sam and Judy prepared vegetable dishes with herbs that were supposed to help the developing fetus while John and Larry used their skills to make a cradle.

As time drew near for the coming of the baby, everyone became a bit anxious. We had arranged for a midwife in the nearby village to come whenever it was time. We had hoped that it would work out that when the pains started, Mike would take me to the nearby pond and we’d deliver the baby there, in the clear, clean mountain water and, amazingly enough, it worked out perfectly, as if the plan had been blessed by God.

I grew huge, feeling quite like a whale but loving the miracle that was growing inside me. When the pains finally started that day, Mike was on the job so Judy took off on her bike to get him. Sam and I packed up what we thought we’d need and what the midwife had told us to bring and started down the trail. We had to stop occasionally while a contraction took over my ability to walk. Finally arriving at the grassy knoll next to the pond, we spread out the blankets and pillows. I changed into a kimono and settled onto the pillows we laid against a large oak tree. The sun was shining brightly but the umbrella of leaves shaded us. The cawing and singing of birds and the gurgling of the brook emptying into the pond were the only sounds.

Mike, John, Larry and Judy arrived soon after with Mary, the midwife, making the group complete. As the pains intensified, so did their concern. Mary assigned each person tasks with great efficiency and it was obvious she knew what she was doing. Finally it was time to slip into the water. I took off my robe; Mike discarded his clothing too and slid into the water with me. Pain after pain, finally, the baby arrived. Mike was there to catch her and as he brought her to the surface of the water, the group began to sing “Happy Birthday” to the newest member of our family. Mike placed her into my arms while he cut the umbilical cord and we stayed in the pool for a few moments together before Mike took her and handed her up to Sam. Sam held her for a moment, and then passed her to John. John smiled and coo’d at her and passed her on to Judy. Judy turned and finally placed the baby in the arms of Larry.

After Mike and I climbed out of the pond, we gathered around as Larry held up the baby to the sky. The sun was just setting and the sky was on fire. “Thank you God for this gift. We will cherish your beautiful child as if she were our own.” Then he handed her back to me.

Grace was a lovely child. She seems to thrive in our home, surrounded by six loving parents. She came alive when we would sing, and coo along with us. It wasn’t long before she was crawling and soon walking but it was singing that she loved the most. She learned the words to the songs quickly and by the age of three could sing with us. She was smart and beautiful. She had her father’s deep blue eyes and my curly hair which we never cut but would put into pony tails or braids to control. Her curiosity was always amazing to us all. She would find a bug and her entire world would explode with excitement.

She came down with a cold one night in December, her head congested and her breathing labored. Mike rode into the village to fetch the local doctor. The doctor was one of the few that still would make house calls so we felt lucky to live nearby. When the doctor arrived, we all stood around watching with grave concern as he examined Grace. Finally he put his tools away in his bag and looked around the group. We could see the concern on his face.

“She needs to be in a hospital….she has pneumonia.” He said quietly. The nearest hospital was forty miles away so we wrapped her tightly and raced down the highway in the old rusted pickup truck. The doctor phoned ahead so when we arrived at the hospital, the Emergency Room nurse was waiting for us. She took Grace’s little weak body from me and placed her on a bed. The doctor came right in, listened to her chest and ordered oxygen for her. They attached all sorts of tubes and monitors to her tiny little body.

I was beside myself with worry and for good reason. Over the next couple days, Grace grew weaker and weaker. It seemed that nothing the doctors did helped at all. Finally after we’d been at the hospital for four days, little Grace gave up.
It was such a tragedy. The entire family was beside themselves with grief but none more than Mike. Of course, I was hopelessly sad, but it seemed to take a real toll on him. Losing the light of his life weighed heavily on his shoulders. I don’t think he was ever the same.

We had Grace cremated. Then we took her to the pond and Larry said words that I don’t remember hearing and the group sang, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…..” We spread Grace’s ashes in the cool, clear water. She was back where she had begun. Ashes to ashes….

Eventually life returned to a normal routine although there did seem to be some sort of wall or space between everyone. The loss of Grace created a hole in our lives. The pain of loss was so deep that no one wanted to really love without holding a little something back. It was a protective survival instinct, I think. But we went on for another two years.

Finally, it was John and Judy who decided they needed to leave the family. John was offered a job as a professor at the University of Oregon. After much discussion, they packed up a few things and left.

It was never the same after that. Sam eventually left to stay with her ailing mother and Larry decided to go back to the seminary and finish his degree in philosophy. Mike and I stayed on in the lodge for a while but it was too big for just the two of us and there were frankly, just too many memories. He was able to sell the house and property for a nice amount so we moved into a small cottage in the village. I went to work at an alterations shop and Mike continued to work as a carpenter but now for a large contracting business. The routine was nice but very often I’d find myself daydreaming of what our lives would have been like had Grace not left us. Even though the years had gone by, we clung to each other for comfort, never really getting over our loss.

Then, two weeks ago, while I was at work, a call came into the shop. As horrifying as it sounded, even I was amazed at how calm I remained. Lucy, the shop owner, rushed me to the hospital. I arrived to find Mike attached with tubes and hoses. It was awful. The foreman told me Mike had placed an aluminum ladder up against the house. What he didn’t notice was the electrical wire that ran along the roof. When he stepped onto the ladder there was an explosion and Mike was thrown to the ground.

He was in intensive care for four days, coming in and out of consciousness. In the late afternoon on the fourth day, he opened his eyes and looked into mine. I took his hand when he tried to talk. “Don’t…” I pleaded. “Just try and get better!”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m not going to get better. I’m going to see Grace….I love you…” He closed his eyes and for a few moments I stood in shock. Grace? Buts she was….

Then I knew. I stood at the side of his bed, still holding his hand and began to sing quietly to him. “You fill up my senses like a light in a forest…” He sighed and then was still. For a moment the room was silent and then the monitor above his head screamed a loud high-pitched sound. Within seconds the nurse rushed in. She looked at him and then me and placed her stethoscope on his chest. She listened for an eternity. Finally she shook her head and pressed a few buttons, one of which quieted the screeching sound. She patted my hand and then left, shutting the door behind her. I sat with Mike, holding his hand for a long time. I leaned over, kissed his lips and then walked over to the window that looked up to our mountain to see sun just setting behind it.

I called Larry and told him the news. He was in shock but said he would come immediately. The next day, he arrived followed shortly by John, Judy, and Sam. We huddled together in the cottage for a few days, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, but all the time holding each other. We held a service at the little stone church in the village. So many people came. Mike had truly touched many lives over the years. The urn with his ashes sat on a pedestal next to a photo of him in his jeans and flannel shirt, carrying his backpack in the woods. At the end of the service, I was given the urn with his ashes.

It was Larry’s idea to take the ashes to the top of Styx Mountain. We all agreed that it was what Mike would want. Together one more time, we made the trek up to the top, to the same place that Mike and I had exchanged our vows so many years ago. The trail, while a bit overgrown, still was the same. There was comfort in seeing that nature’s changes had been so slight after all the years. When we arrived, John made the fire and we passed a bottle of wine sharing stories and singing. The climb and the wine took their toll and soon all but me had fallen asleep.

The sunrise would come soon enough and as I looked around to my dear friends, I knew that while there was a hole in my heart, I was filled with love. I meandered out onto the rock overlooking the valley. There was a smattering of lights dotting the darkness that matched the twinkling stars above. I wondered if Mike was smiling down at us.

I could see the sky starting to lighten in the far horizon. Walking back, I stirred the fire. The blaze came back to life so I filled the little pot with coffee and nudged each of my friends.

It wasn’t long before the group roused and filled their cups. We sat around the fire and drank in silence for a while, waiting for the sun to make her entrance. Finally, a small crescent peeked over the horizon, sending shards of light into the sky. We ambled to the rock, Larry holding the urn. He looked at each member of the group with deep affection before saying, “We are here to escort one of our family to the next phase in his life.” He took the lid from the urn and handed it to me. Each of my friends placed a hand on my shoulders. With tears streaming down my cheeks I began to pour.

“Michael, we have loved and laughed and cried together. Our spirits were intertwined and will always be connected. You are not lost; you are blazing the new trail for me like you always did.”

It was then that a breeze picked up and we all watched as Mike’s ashes rode the wind. Holding each other, we began to sway and sing, “Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust….”

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Tags:

death, friendship, life and love