Yesterday we began to spread Rio’s ashes. We wandered to a small wooden footbridge in a green gully along a canyon trail. Releasing a few handfuls of ashes into the standing water was powerful. Our daughter had fun, and it was bittersweet to see her holding her brother again in this form.
I thought about how far we’ve come in nearly 7 months since Rio died. I felt the dry ashes and saw them floating in the air like dust. I gazed into the muddy creek bed and wondered at the life bubbling in it like primordial soup. Despite the drought, life in this spot thrives. From here, Rio’s ashes will be washed into the ocean with the first big rain. My husband also released some ashes under a big tree in the park. Rio will be in the ocean, rivers, trees, canyons, mountains and wind forever.
Tonight I began browsing through photos for the family calendars that we make every year. I’ve only gotten through the first half of the year. It was harder than I thought, more emotional. Looking at our daughter interacting with and holding Rio brought back those feelings of what could have been.
Our tears were raw tonight. My heart is so broken. So is my keyboard because some of my tears went under an arrow key and now the bottom two rows don’t function. Once again death and grieving leaves destruction and distraction. The keyboard breaking symbolizes my inability to fully express the meaning of Rio’s death. It’s frustrating because I know people who have gone through their own losses and we all have very alike experiences in such different circumstances. The human experience is isolating yet continues to feature similar themes for many of us.