Ancestors

It's been a long time. 

A long time since I thought about him.

And today I visited his grave.

Actually, its not really his grave.

His mother was buried there many years ago, and his ashes were scattered there after his cremation. 

His brother thought this was the best place for him to rest .

I'm not sure what I expected. Perhaps I thought that this would give me "closure", or a feeling of relief. Perhaps it's been so long, and the emotion and feelings are hidden behind many years. 

We drove on long straight deserted roads, through old mining areas and tired looking cattle yards. 

We passed across the marks of an old burnout, and drove through Jarrah forests and pine tree plantations. 

As we got close to the cemetery, I felt something stirring deep in my belly. The stirring of pain, trauma and emotion long forgotten.

The cemetery was a quiet simple clearing setback from the main road and surrounded by virgin bush. Some overgrown bushes covered the path, and I parked the car.

My children jumped out, eager to stretch their legs 

My wife looked and me and said: 'Shall we?"

I nodded, and opened the car door. 

The air was hot. The clouds stood tall and ominous, as thunder rumbled in the distance. I took a deep breath and started to walk. 

 

The trees above the right hand side of the cemetery looked familiar, and I have a faint memory of a childhood visit to this same place. I think I visited here a long time ago, with people who are no longer living.

I started to slow my breathing, consciously watching the ebb and flow of respiration. It is close.

I turn to the right, walking up an aisle of the cemetery with headstones on both sides commemorating the lives of those long gone.  

To my right, I notice a gravestone with a plaque. My heart knows what comes next, skips a beat to prepare me.

On one of the corners. I see his name. 

Underneath his name are two dates, separated by a dash. The dash denotes a life of experiences. Somewhere in that dash is love and marriage. And 2 children, sons. 

A huge wave of emotion is released from the pit of my stomach. I read the plaque again and again.

It is his name. 

The wave of emotion hits my heart, and a lone tear runs down my cheek. 

I walk past the headstone and stand at the foot of the grave. 

And like magic, I feel several fat drops of rain.

In my mind, I say:

   Thank you for the gift of life.

   May you rest in peace.

   Go well into eternity.

It begins to rain, more steadily now. I feel his presence, as if to say: 'I am here, I am here, I am here'.

My son comes to my side, and envelops me in his arms. And while he says nothing, his action speaks volumes. My daughter joins him, and I stand swallowed by loving arms observing the grave where his ashes are scattered.

It's the first time they have met him. 

He played his part, and invoked many feelings, realisations and decisions.

I always said that my Dad gave my children the most important gift they will never know... 

I am a product of my upbringing and my parents.

He could not be present. 

He had his reasons. I forgave him. It still hurt.

I know what it felt like, and I know I didn't like it. So I made a deal with myself to transmute my pain into their present. I act the way I do because of that agreement. 

I have a lot to thank him for, and so do they. It's not often that trauma can be turned into treasure. It's not a traditional present, I know, but it's a gift that I am proud to give them.

As I drove away from the cemetery, I felt lighter. 

More free in the present, less tangled up in the past. 

It has been a long time yes. 

And despite the time, I needed all the time - every last second - to prepare for the visit today.  

So as I turn to face the next steps, I travel a new road uncharted. I've left some baggage behind, and I get to say hello to the next moment with a clear mind, an open heart and a smile on my face.