How to scatter ashes
A few years ago when my friend was ill we talked about death and dying and what he wanted to happen to his ashes. I made a promise that I would take them to Maes y Mynydd, a place he loved, if I survived him ( fingers crossed, he was a good thirty years older than me, but you never know). In order to make this easier for me I asked that he put in his will that he wanted me to do this.
Today I collected Glyn’s ashes. Such a beautiful day, and with the blessing of his family I took them over the hill to Maes y Mynydd. I went alone. This is what I wanted. When Glyn and I had talked about it I had always imagined myself taking this time alone. And I wasn’t going to write about it, but I think there are many who read my blog who know Glyn from the cat’s blog, from my diary, from things I have said about him in the past and so it seemed right, seems right, to share.
I collected the ashes from Bernard Matthias, in whose care they had been. Surprised by the weight of them I searched for a bag in which to carry them and chose a beautiful bag made for me by my friend June, with love, from rich coloured velvets. Usually it carries my healing bowl. For now it seemed a fitting carrier for Glyn.
Together we went for this last walk.
The edge of the path was patterned with celandines, open wide in sunshine. Swallows were everywhere. Violets, shy in the grass, and gorse, scenting the air. Kisses are only in season when gorse is in bloom.
As we walked it seemed that the birds of the air had come to welcome him. Swallows, rook, raven, buzzard, kestrel, peregrine and small songbirds, linnets and stonechat, a thrush and wheatears. I walked slowly, feeling the weight of the friendship.
Inside the ruins of the main cottage I set the bag down to rest a while and think, beside the remnants of the lintel from the chimney fawr with marks from the Toredo worms clear for all to see. He loved this place. He loved his house too. Why did he want to be scattered here?
I had walked here with Glyn a few times, and met him here by chance on more occasions. He would walk here almost every fine day when I first knew him, and some not so fine. When he was a child he would run away here, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. I wondered, sitting there in the sun, whether he had brought sweethearts here as a young man, a sure way to make the tears flow. I bet he had been a handsome youth in his time.
I realised that I did not know how to scatter ashes. Was there a ‘right way’? It was relatively calm, beautiful sunshine, so quiet. I unscrewed the lid and inside was fine white remains of my friend. Such a lot of ashes. He had said ‘scatter’. So I took a handful and threw it up to the winds. Time seemed to slow. Some heavy particles fell straight, some like diamonds caught the light and shone and some, fine, dust-like danced on the wind and swirled up to be caught and spread through the stone walls of the ruined cottage. Yes. This was how to do it. Slowly, a small handful at a time, and with each handful remembering the man.
A child, running on the hills, barefoot on sunny days to the sea, laughing, chasing butterflies, not a care in the world.
A schoolboy, out from the confines of lessons, wild on the hill.
A young man, courting, dreaming of love, hand in hand with someone.
A soldier, back from the war having seen sights no man should see, resting his eyes on the old stone comfort of familiarity and watching birds.
With each handful a memory, of times he and I talked, while the swallows flew so close they almost touched my hair and another handful up into the arms of the wind to dance and swirl.
Older now, and home again, this time from Africa where he was shocked at how white men treated black men, walking the hills, trying to make sense of the world.
Retired, walking every day, followed by birds and memories. He would walk here and talk with the ghosts of the people who had lived here through centuries. Handful of ashes, after handful and hands gray with the dust of them. Tears in the sunshine, time passing and with the last few just falling and some still swirling up in wind made visible by ash two chough flew over in a courting dance.
How many times did I touch him in life? Not many. A hug now and again. I had written a letter years back that he carried in his pocket, everywhere. We had lunch together, a handful of times. Just a handful.
Beside the chimney fawr a hawthorn tree grows. Every year the blossom looks like a wave washing over the house. Every year a crow builds a tangled nest of twigs. It is there now. There are eggs. There will be a new brood of crows. Every year Glyn would write the name of the village on the gate at the end. When the parc put up a new gate they added the name out of respect for Glyn.
As I walked away I thought, “could do with rain now to wash the ashes in to the earth and the stones.” Looking up I saw clouds and smiled.
Back home, as I walked past Glyn’s crumbling house, Elmo came shouting out from the back garden where he had been hunting for mice. Jackdaws shouted from the walls. And outside my house I walked past the wonderful glass panel of Maes Y Mynydd and the ghost cats. I hope that Glyn is happy there. His ashes were very beautiful.
Touching, beautiful.
Travel well Glyn!
Thankyou for sharing x
Blessing and sharing a life touches a lives. So beautiful and a fit memorial.
Very, very moving Jac – beautiful – I don’t shed tears often but I don’t mind at all for Glyn. Only met him a couple of times but I know how special you were to each other. Thanks again Jac.
What beautiful writing Jackie, such a perfect tribute of love to a friend. Would that we could all have someone like you to accompany us on that journey.
A good resting place for him – or anyone. x x
Jackie, what a lovely tribute to Glyn. Thank you for having those hard conversations and ensuring he put his instructions in the will. You are/were a good and faithful friend.
we were talking of death today and how we so badly prepare for it and what happens next. Your story is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
Beautifully written, capturing the essence of Wales and an old friend X
Enjoyed reading it very much! I went through a similar experience with my older brother’s ashes … he is scattered on the shore of Ullswater in the Lake District. I also totally illegally smuggled my dad’s ashes back to Sweden when my daughter and I went camping. A totally lovely place for your friend’s ashes!
Just so!! Wow Jackie. Amazing. I think Glyn is so lucky to have you to scatter his Ashes .Bless him. His wonderful cottage! Hope it does not get modernised! So beautiful. just needs good renovating to keep it Perfect! very moving. lots of love. jacqui.xx
My words can’t match such eloquence. Thank you Jackie, I feel I have known Glyn.
As Jim said: Not easy to make me cry.
Beautiful! Thank you for sharing this.
I don’t know why more folk don’t choose to gift their ashes to a graceful Act of Friendship with a dear one and a well-loved place. How beautifully you’ve written about this promised enactment; from beginning to conclusion, your steps taken with loving attentiveness. An honour for you – and food for thought, I’m sure, for your readers. x
So beautiful Jackie. Thank you for sharing this sacred time. Heart is swelling.
Thank you, Jackie. For all of it.
Go well, Glyn.
What a beautiful way to say good-bye to a friend!
Very very beautiful. That is the right way to spread ashes, I have always wondered about how to do it in a beautiful way, now I know.
I’m sorry for your loss Jackie. You’ve written a very beautiful and touching tribute to your friend. I have my aunt’s ashes with me and wanted to scatter them in the alpines already last year and keep having the same thoughts…what is the right way to do this? I think these thoughts are part of grief and I think I just have to get up there into the alpines.
Oh Jackie, you performed this last loving gesture so beautifully and with great sensitivity. Wonderful that you and Glyn were able to make decisions and you could carry them out. We should all give thought to what we would like to have happen at our end.
To spend eternity among the wild things in one of the most beautiful places in Britain – a fitting end for a gentle man of Wales and a moving tribute to the power of friendship and love. Thankyou Jackie.
I hope that all of us have friends like you to send us on our last journeys. This was very moving, and very beautiful. Thank you.
One of my thoughts as I scattered was that I hope I have someone who will take such time with me and also somewhere as special to go. One of the other things was, should i have asked the land owners permission first? It didn’t occur to me because this place belonged to Glyn in a way that has nothing to do with deeds or land registries. Body and soul. Heart and soul. Real ownership that lasts through time.
Beautiful and touching. What a loving and fitting way to say goodbye to a dear friend.
To know that we would end our time like this, being absorbed back into the soil from which such spiritual nourishment has come, and for it to be done by a friend, with love, that is to really rest in peace. If we should all be so fortunate!
A lovely piece. A friend and I were talking this week of all the care she gives a neighbor in a long, final illness, she wondered who would do it for her when she needed care. I would wish everyone a friend like you at the end.–hart
Thank you for taking us with you on Glyn’s last journey to the place he cherished. He was blessed to have you as a trusted friend to carry out his request. I wrote to him after you mentioned him and sent a few cards. He was quite a gentle man.
He loved those cards and the good wishes of people from all around the world. We would sit and read them and people sent him pictures of their cats too. Wonderful. Cats from all around the world. Made a difference to him as he received very little mail.
this post brought tears to my eyes. what a wonderful tribute to a special neighbor and friend. he is now in a better place.
I waited a while before reading your beautiful post, maybe because we too lost a friend just a couple of days after you lost Glyn and it made me think of him and also of his wife – they had been together fifty years since the ages of 14 and 16. My friend was only 66, an artist, an inspirational man with such courage. The way you have honoured Glyn is wonderful, and although a very personal, private moment, I think you were right to share and celebrate your friendship and the spirit of your friend. Through you his life will touch the hearts of many well meaning strangers who did not know him as you did, but who are moved all the same and uplifted.
Maes Y Mynydd between the sky and the sea – I’m glad you made sure his wish to be in this place came to be. I will certainly think of your friend whenever I read the Seal Children with my children…
[…] had talked when he first became ill of life and death and what he wanted to be done with his ashes. A few days ago, according to his wishes, I carried the remains of him up the hill on a last walk tog…I am told their weight is similar to that of your weight at birth. It was a sunny day. As I sat in […]
Again, thank you Jackie … it seems to me that it was meant to be … that this one little man, who saw so much of a world that puzzled and shocked him, should return to Wales, back to the hills and through you, share so much with the world that give us a glimpse into not only his heart, but the souls of so many around the world who felt him kindred.
Thank you. I hope to have good news about his house some time soon. Also hope to be re issuing The Seal Children and if so will add a dedication to Glyn.
How beautiful, made me weep, I felt as though I was there. What a wonderful thing for a friend to do … Will take a visit up there this summer and think of Glyn x
Thank you for writing this. It greatly helped me. I was searching the internet as tomorrow I will fulfill my friend’s wishes written in his will to scatter his ashes at Kew Gardens & I didn’t know how to do it. I was already squeamish organising his cremation, unsettled & sad picking up his ashes & now I have to scatter what remains of my friend in the rose bushes. I’ve never seen it done before, but there will be a staff member of Kew with me – I’m sure they can guide me. Death is not easy for us who are left behind. Thank you for a thoughtful & touching post about taking care of your friend’s last request.
[…] walked towards Maes Y Mynydd, talked for a while with old ghosts and new, thinking of ashes and the scattering of them, remembering, then on to the Fox Rocks where I sat, wrote, watched a kestrel hunting and choughs […]
too full to speak really. My heart is overflowing.
A beautiful piece Jackie. And it brings huge comfort to me at a time when I am watching a dear friend, a best friend hover towards death in the last days of her struggle with MND. To know that there is something beautiful and peaceful to come for her and for all of us offers great solace so thankyou for sharing.
So moving, lovely prose. Made me cry. Thank you….
So lovely and respectfully done. What will happen to Glyn’s house now? And what ever happened to Nadalig?
A wonderful and emotional tribute to a friend Jackie, I’m sure any one of us would love to be remembered in such a beautiful. Goodbye Glyn.
Thank you Jackie. I feel honored that you shared this. I have thought of him often over the years since we were introduced by the wonder that is the internet.
So lovely. We can only hope to have such a thoughtful and heartfelt passing unto the earth. He chose well when he chose you to send him forth.
[…] one of the trees i have had the privilege to meet grows out of the side of the ruined house where Glyn’s ashes are scattered. We said hello and walked […]
[…] went into the ruin where I had scattered Mr Griffith’s ashes some years before. The White cat talked with the […]
He was lucky to have such a friend. You honoured him in life and death. Thank you for sharing precious memories with us. I am sorry you will no longer see him, but you will always remember him in your heart.
Trying to learn lessons with the friends I still have who are alive. And trying to remember not to ask them if they want me to scatter their ashes!
May his ashes settle, gently rest upon the ground,
Then feed the lustrous blooms in Spring,
As rainbows arc around.
May they be caught and coat the wings of birds,
To be taken as high as the sun . .
Then sparkle like diamonds,
As they gather and swirl,
Shimmering in raindrops,
As they fall and run!
May the memories and moments shared
On sunny and special days,
Remain warm in your <3 sweet lady,
As he waves "Cariad, see you next . . " whenever . .
As even now . . it is never truly farewell,
To those who are closest to us,
They will still 'live' in a warm place, deep within,
Be they special friend, soul-mate or lover.
Still sharing special moments, and sunlit walks down the lane,
With your cats and Ivy leading,
The comforting presence of those dear to you do follow
In those extra footsteps, silently falling behind you.
Gone he may be in body, but still close he will always be . .
Will live on in mind and heart, never to be separated, yet you and he . .
Will be boundless, but forever together . . yet still be wistful and free.
With a smile in the sun, and a secret kiss . .
Delivered in a breeze, gently brushed upon youhomeeek
He will forever be with you, a dear friend, a kindly and watchful soul,
Making sure you're safe, until youhome. <3 . 🙂
Thank you for sharing Jackie, hope you don't mind my having shared the words that kept coming to mind as I read your blog. Sometimes, if I don't write them down, to get them out of my system . . they just won't go away, keep repeating!!
You created a poetic farewell for your friend. Is he the man you asked us to send cards to years ago, when he needed a bit of cheer? If so, I hope my card lifted his spirits. I like how so many wild birds came to his ceremony.
Yes, indeed. He carried those around with him too and was so touched by the kindness of strangers.
Dear Jackie…I too, know this feeling, this wondering…’how to scatter ashes’.
I remember…a beautiful June morning, not long after dawn and a gentle breeze at the
top of Glastonbury Tor.
I remember…unscrewing the lid of his urn and the sound that it made.
I remember…the fine white remains within.
I remember…the feel and the texture between my fingers and held in my palm;
very aware that this would be the last time that I could hold him.
I remember…taking a handful and casting him, high and free to the four winds.
I remember…the fine dust swirling upward into the air; the grains falling, to become
one with the earth.
I remember…the love and sound of farewells, carried on the breeze, as we said
goodbye to my wonderful son, who died suddenly, aged 24.
I remember…as we walked back down the hill, the magical sight that met our eyes.
Just below the pathway, many birds had gathered on the bright side of
the Tor in the sunshine; there was a flock of white doves and a lot of
crows/rooks and not one of them stirred or flew away.
Oh Maddy, you made me cry, bless you. How fiercely the world does turn at times. So sad.
[…] Here is her post http://www.jackiemorris.co.uk/blog/how-to-scatter-ashes/ […]