I truly felt that I should shatter some of Vic’s ashes at Chaka’s Rock. Once I got there I started doubting the wisdom of my decision. We walked on the beach and I waited for a sign….for a white feather to find me.
Friday morning it was time to return home. I had still not received a feather….and Vic was coming home with us – all intact!
The boys and I decided to scatter flowers for Vic. She loved symbolic actions!
It was a pretty dismal day. It was as if the angels were sad for us too… It was gently drizzling when we made our way to the beach. We decided to go to Vic’s favourite spot. Every single year Vic would insist on getting to the beach at least once! She walked with drips stands, we pushed her in her wheelchair, and we carried her to the edge of the water.
The tide was coming in. For a while we just stood on the beach staring at the sea. Looking at the gentle waves crushing on the sand I knew that the flowers would be washed out again.
I tossed the first flower. The boys followed suit…
I stood there mesmerised by the ethereal life of the crashing waves. It was as if the waves whispered “I was here and I lived a life”… Waves formed, were pushed toward the shore, where they collapsed and returned to the ocean. Sometimes waves leave behind ocean treasures they have picked up and carried along with them. Sometimes, the foam, created when air mixes into the water, is the only thing left behind. On Friday the waves carried the flowers back and forth – back and forth crushing the flowers and disposing of the gentle pedals.
The boys and I wrote on the sand. The waves erasing our words….
We stood and our tears mingled with the salty sea water.
The flower pedals were strewn on the beach in the shape of a half heart…
After a long time we left. Our faces wet from the rain and our tears.
Strangely we were at peace. We had survived another first. Next year we will return to Chaka’s with some old memories but also with new memories!