The Perfect Goodbye

Twenty something years ago my parents lived in South Litchfield, SC. My Dad had built a house he thought was worthy of visiting. He always wanted to give us a pool and comfortable bedrooms so we would spend our vacations with him. It was a beautiful house over looking the marsh with a dock for boating. We did all visit regularly and loved it.

There was one thing about the house my father found frustrating. In order for us to get to the beach we had to walk down a long road, because there was a canal between us and the beach. So my father took it upon himself to get a bridge over the canal built. It wasn’t easy. He had to enlist other neighbors to lobby the provincial Local government officials who put up as many road blocks as possible. Being turned down, by state and local authorities did not stop him.

My Dad started a campaign to raise money to build the bridge and by hook or by crook got it built. In 2003 the people of the neighborhood, now thrilled to have a fast way to get to the beach, named the bridge in my father’s honor. The funniest part about his doing all this work to get this bridge built is that he never went to the beach himself. He just wanted it to be easier for us and for others.

So it seemed only fitting that today we scattered his ashes from his foot bridge with many of his favorite people together.

We started the service at the house where my sisters and Mom are staying. My sister Margaret was in charge of this memorial and did a beautiful job talking about my Dad. She had gathered some things for us to read and my cousins and our friend Judy, Janet and I all read our parts. Right before the service started Margaret took the reading she had given me, the 23 Psalm, which I knew by heart and said, “No, I want you to read this.” I did not have a chance to look at it before we started.

After Everyone else had done their reading I was last. It was a perfect poem about not feeling sad about someone dying, half way through my reading the tears came and my throat closed up a little bit, but I continued.

We all went to the foot bridge and my Mom and sisters and I opened our little urns and scattered his ashes into the water. We wish that Carter had been with us physically, but she was with us spiritually.

It was the perfect way to say goodbye to my Dad, who always did everything for others.