Scattering His Ashes

We leave tomorrow morning and head for Big Bear. It is Bryan's 37th birthday. He and I would have been the same age for two months. For many years, Bryan took us all up to the mountains to celebrate with him on or near his February 5th birthday. So we go without him tomorrow. But in his honor, to celebrate his life, to hug and cry and remember all the love he shared with us. It will be painful. One month and 21 days--that is all the time that has elapsed since his unbelievably sudden and unexpected and tragic and horrible and ugly and awful and unimaginable...death. The wound is too fresh, still so new and deep. But we go because what else would we do tomorrow? We must, I was compelled, we all are--to go where he chose to go and be where he liked to be for his birthday. I am not a glutton for misery. I wish with every cell in my body that I did not have this task before me: to spread his ashes, "...for dust you are and to dust you will return." On his 37th birthday. I add this to the blog because it is a chapter in his story and I cannot edit the story, no matter how badly I want to.

This is what I plan on sharing up there on the mountain, overlooking the lake, in some private spot as we cast his dust into the wind:

You can shed tears that he is gone,

Or you can smile because he lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him

Or you can be full of the love that you shared,

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live in yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone,

Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what Bryan would want:

smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

It is a pep-talk for myself. If you loved him, maybe they are words of encouragement for you too. Please pray for our immediate and extended family as we gather to complete this last paragraph in the chapter of Bryan's story called death. It is not the final chapter of his story--his will go on for eternity. I am convinced and assured of that. But this is the last task left to his earthly body--to return from where it came.

ps-The Playlist for today is playing the music that I chose for the service.