Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down…
I often played the game and sang the nursery rhyme,’ Ring around the Rosie’ with my friends as a young girl. Learning of the folklore meaning today, I can relate to the ashes part, however as a child I never knew what we were really singing about.
On June 18th, 2021 while on my way to show homes I received a phone call from my brother Shane letting me know our father had just passed away. I thought how can that be? I just saw him a week ago. My thoughts turned back to my job, and I pushed all my feelings away and continued on with my day. I was determined to meet with these clients that were moving from Michigan to Florida. I had months of correspondence with them and there was no way I was going to drop everything and cry. So, I did my best and put on a smile and went through with plan to show them several homes that day. After meeting them in person and seeing their warm personalities, I let them know if I was off or seemed distracted it was because of a family death. Of course, they suggested I go home and tend to the situation; however, I was so relieved to take my mind off the fact that my father had passed and to carry on with what I love to do. Showing homes and helping others to find their next place to live. This day was to be about them and their next chapter.
As the day went on, we came up empty with no interest in the properties we viewed. We had other homes to view and a complete schedule for the rest of the weekend. We agreed to meet on Saturday to view more homes. Upon my arrival home there was a beautiful bouquet of red roses at my door. Yes, my new clients had sent them to me, and I instantly knew I had made the right decision to see them that day and carry on. After several more showings on Saturday & Sunday we identified a property that they fell in love with and well, it was meant to be because I ended up getting this lovely couple under contract and in a new home by the time, I flew out on Monday night. As the universe would have it, I flew into Michigan on my route to Kansas City. I was able to go to the Delta lounge and literally submit the contract in the airport. Thank goodness for technology and the sky lounge!
The flight was delayed, and I arrived very early in the am KC time. My brothers and sister in-law were all sitting in the airport half asleep, but there to greet me. We were all so tired and we had an hour drive ahead. Still, no chance to cry or really absorb what was actually happening and why I was back in KC. The nursery rhyme playing in my head…ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
The next day we would drive to where my father’s ashes would be picked up and we would discuss the next steps. Upon our arrival to get his ashes it felt as though it wasn’t really happening as if I was in a movie of sorts and going through some script. The first time the tears came is when the funeral director stated, he was a big man we had to place him in two containers. I felt an uncontrollable pain in my throat and chest, as if I couldn’t breathe. Then it all became real. He was gone and this was what was left of him and we had to deal with it and his ashes. My brothers and I were alone for this part of the journey and we spent some time talking about our father, the good, the bad and the ugly.
We also laughed uncontrollably when we decide to strap his ashes in the back seat of the car and stop in a local pub to have a drink in his honor. Once again, fighting back the tears we drove home to our mother’s house, where we would place his ashes in her basement. My mother has a great sense of humor and said “I hope he doesn’t haunt me and I can’t wait to tell my friends who I have in my basement.” HA! My parents have been divorced for many years and had not spoken in years and ironically, he spoke to my mother just days before his passing. As a faith filled person, I know it was all part of God’s plan.
After a few days, my brothers Shane and Heath decided we should meet again in about a month to spread his ashes in places dad had ironically requested just one week before when we saw him at his home. My head is still spinning over that conversation and the things Charlie said. God’s plan once again. On August 19th, I flew back out to KC and we packed up the car once again and started our journey with our fathers’ ashes. My father was born in St. Joseph, MO and grew up in Savannah and Stewartsville both in Missouri. He died in St. Joseph MO at the age of 72. Therefore, we were going to visit those 3 main areas to spread his ashes per his request.
We needed an urn to place a majority of his ashes in where he would be buried between his father and mother in the cemetery in Savannah. After several stops at local cemeteries and florists etc. we came up with nothing. There was literally no place open that sold an urn. So, in true fashion and honor of our bricklayer father we found the perfect vessel at a local hardware store. With vessel in hand and dad’s ashes we were told to go to the County Clerk’s office where we would pay a fee to have him placed at the cemetery. The rest of dad’s ashes would become part of the earth and ocean per his request.
First stop, the cemetery in Savannah, MO where we met Paul the local caretaker, he would take care of burying dads ashes beside his mother. About another hour or so away is the small town where we were to travel to place more of his ashes. Good ole’ Stewartsville MO where he grew up on a farm and played football for the Cardinals. Small town, population of about 700. His ashes are now spread there near a lake; on the very football field he ran on all those years ago and on the land where he lay brick of our birth home. The entire day was so surreal and traveling to all those places made me grateful for my humble beginnings and the life that I now have. Grateful for my life and for the opportunity to be with my brothers and create those memories as a family. We didn’t have the opportunity to grow up together as divorce and remarriages kept us apart.
The final stop was at our very first home as children. It was so surreal being back there. A tiny modest brick home with 3 bedrooms and 1 bathroom a big back yard with a large tree we used to swing from and a back deck where we would eat our lunches and make mud pies under. It looked a little different than I recall, I was about 9 or 10 when we left that home. My memories came flooding back and I saw myself on my huffy riding down those gravel roads to the neighbors and I remembered how there was always his old Ford truck parked in the driveway. Tears began to fill my eyes as we set back on the road back to Kansas City, but once again I held back and didn’t let myself cry.
I have the last bit of remaining ashes of my father with me and I am waiting for the time when I will take him to the ocean where he asked to be spread. He vacationed and worked for a bit in Florida. Funny how life is and how it comes full circle. Florida is my home now and Missouri is my birthplace where it all began. I will forever cherish the good memories with my father, while they were few and far between, I will never forget our humble beginnings and the struggles we all endured getting to where we are today. That’s another story. Hopefully gratitude will continue to reign in my heart, however for now my heart repeats… Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..
