Sunday, August 3, 2014

Halifax and Another Hard Promise

Heart of the Matter


Part 1 - Bury Me at Sea

- Early 1980s

As I recall, my wife Pat and I travelled from London to see my parents in Norwich, Ontario on a very lovely day and under pleasant circumstances. That is to say, to have a Sunday visit and enjoy supper together. Our two sons were old enough to send off to the nearby school grounds or baseball park to play on their own (and if they wandered downtown - less than two blocks away - that was fine too), a roast was in the oven, a store-bought pie was on the kitchen counter and cups of tea with cookies were offered and welcomed after the hour drive from our home to theirs. 

Initially, the visit went perfectly well. It helped that, with my wife and I in our early thirties and my parents in their early sixties, we had lots of common small talk to comfortably fill the afternoon. We talked about the boys (we just had to look out the window to be sure that neither had fallen off the monkey bars and landed on his head), our family cars, changes to our houses. My teaching career was going well and so were the Blue Jays. Easy breezy afternoon, as some would say.

Then my father handed me a photo postcard of the 'Sailor's Statue' (Sackville St., Halifax) and said, very passionately, "I want to be buried at sea."


He could not have produced a more devastating affect on the conversation had he tossed a hand grenade under the dining room table where we sat. Pat and I didn't know what to say.

But my mother did. "What's going to happen to me? Am I going to be buried alone?"

The tension turned thick, making me think to this day that they had not discussed Dad's wishes too fully before that day.

My mother then made it clear she didn't want to be buried alone, that husbands and wives were supposed to be buried together. Dad tried to add some explanation but didn't get far. And, on that day, the matter was closed as far as Pat and I were concerned. We discussed our feelings about our support for both parents' conflicting wishes during the ride home, but like many other very important things in this world, we didn't explore the issue or possible solutions to the dilemma much farther because 'life got in the way'.  

Of these things I am certain: Dad and I never discussed his wishes again before mother passed away in November, 2000. While my parents were alive no one ever thought or talked about the possibility of splitting Dad's ashes in two, burying one half with mother and the other at sea. Mother explored the possibility of being buried with her mother at the Norwich Cemetery but her wishes were refused by one of her brothers. A solution to the dilemma - how to satisfy both of their wishes - never surfaced in their lifetime. 

["Like most married couples, my parents are buried together"]

A solution did spring to my mind, however - completely out of the blue, while I was working on a project in my basement - shortly after my father died in February, 2003.

More to follow.


Photos GH

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