it's raining here in baltimore...

a chilly monday morning. at first i could only hear the wet of the tires on the pavement outside my window, then i opened the blinds. a perfect crisp fall rainy day. i think i'll stay inside a bit longer.

applying for hospital CNA jobs online then i'll call them all this afternoon and tomorrow. tomorrow i'll go pick up my stuff from the office. joy, joy, joy. i wrote a pleasant letter wishing them all peace. i apologized for flipping when they told me it was over. i guess i'm not so easy to break up with, afterall.

i wanted to tell you about taking BK's ashes to the lake. from an email to a friend who couldn't be there:

Saturday (aug 23rd) was perfect. The perfect beach day. The perfect conditions for the task at hand. And your words were the perfect thing to recite.

We rented a fishing boat from a kind gentleman named Bill who took us out near New Buffalo [i think] but sped us up to the Cottage Beach in no time. He took great care and was clearly moved by the set of us. He had never partaken in such a journey and his love and kindness will long be remembered.

We made it out to the beach and BK's mom, BK's sis, BK's husband and I stood on the front of the boat to wave to BK's grandma, who decided to stay at the cottage, too emotional to make the journey, I was told. No telling if she saw us or someone else, but the thought always counts.

We then went back to the back of the boat to be with BK's dad, as his walking cast kept him from walking the slim edge to the front of the boat with us. Dad used his engineer skills and a flat head screwdriver [i kid you not] to pry the beautiful gold brushed box open. BK's remains were double bagged and tied with a medallion, which I believe her husband took.

I prepared the bag while Mom read a touching piece. We then decided how to go about the task and Dad, Mom, Husband and I stood at the tail of the boat, Momma, Poppa and I scooping ashes out of the bag and into the water as Husband held them. I read your poem then. It was most fitting as her ashes floated gently down in the waters. Husband then poured the rest into the water, followed by one of the bags, oops! Sis then dropped in handfuls of oak leaves she had picked from the cottage that morning and we followed with dried rose petals Grandma had kept from BK's service. The petals and leaves remained on the water's surface, trailing behind the boat.

As we pulled away, ready to motor back to harbor, a large orange butterfly came out of nowhere to dip in front of us. A healing sign from BK herself that all was well.

Apparently, Grandpa [who passed in July] makes his appearances as a large black butterfly. He swept through a large open field at his service between his remains and the family.

Grandma told us, very tearfully, that she was followed up the path from the beach by a large black butterfly when she returned to the cottage.

Sunday I was resting on the deck, worshipping the sun, when a pair of small, white butterflies came to perch on my herbs. "Huh. Twins. Really?" i asked them. They remained for some time, still as can be, as if to tell me they knew i knew ... may the communication never end. [no, i am not pregnant. i just really want twins.]

We returned to the cottage at a slow rate, Mom, Sis, Husband and I basking in the sun on the front of the boat while Dad kept the Captain and his daughter company. We all shared our stories. In the end, the Captain refused payment, blessed to have been a part of the journey. Moved by the witness of BK's life in each of us. Such a gentle, kind man.

We headed out to pick up Grandma and gloss through some photos before heading to the Roadside Cafe for a very tastey dinner. We hugged and kissed in the parking lot, Grandma growing very tearful when it came to me. I looked her straight in the eye and said "I'll see you. Christmas. Done deal." Mom gave me the nod of approval. I'll likely grab the train this fall when the Jewish Day School where I work is closed for holidays to hang out with Mom and Dad. Why not? It's nice to have a home so close.

Sis and I exchanged numbers. She and her Fiance are coming up to spend the weekend at the cottage. She just had her 27th birthday on the 18th. It was a rough day. I want to make sure I do something thoughtful for her next couple birthdays. It's going to be rough to surpass BK's age...

well. wasn't expecting that, were ya?

i'm grateful to have had the words to read as we carried out BK's final wishes.

There was a peace and a true sense of both closure and letting go. Like now that my hands are empty, I can really be truly ready to let be filled with the next blessing life has to offer me.

so neat.

i'm sorry you couldn't be there.

the poem i read:

Weep you no more, sad fountains,

what needs you flow so fast?

Look how the snowy mountains,

heaven’s sun doth gently waste.

But my sun’s heavenly eyes,

view not your weeping.

That now lies sleeping,

softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling.

A rest that peace begets.

Doth not the sun rise smiling,

when ever at evening he sets?

Rest you then, rest sad eyes.

Melt not in weeping.

While she lies sleeping, softly,

softly, now softly lies sleeping.

-John Dowland