10-29-2022 One of our main objectives when we planned this trip was to fulfill my dad’s final request. He wanted his ashes to be buried with his loving wife, my mom, in Oklahoma.
I found the perfect vessel for his ashes, something he always loved, a milk can. I remember as a child, us using them to hold water when we lived on the cut off.
Finding moms headstone wasn’t difficult, as she chose a rock as unique as she was.
With dads remaining ashes we sprinkled them all around moms grave site, just as he would’ve wanted.
We then drove a couple miles down the road to where my folks lived. To my surprise, the only remaining evidence that they used to live there was the concrete strips that once was the foundation for the house.
After my mom had passed the house got repossessed and dad converted the patio into his house. He had stacked rocks all the way to top creating a rock house. That too, was torn down. The only hard work that remained was the rock boarder dad had made, surrounding a portion of the property.
All the work one puts into creating something, another works to remove it. The land is now owned by my mom’s sister, whom I have tried to connect with over the years, but no response has been received. We walked down the road where I’d taken walks with my mom 19 years earlier, just soaking in one last stroll.
Letting go, once again, weighed on both of us but we were grateful to fulfill our last promise. We will be together again in the end.