I mentioned that I was going on a little summer trip. One of the things running through my mind was whether I should bring a teeny bit of my husband's ashes to our destination. He used to love the area and it was a place we visited on our honeymoon. Years before my husband was diagnosed and passed away from Pulmonary Fibrosis, we were discussing things like burial vs. cremation and our desires as far as that is concerned. He always told me that he wanted to be cremated and since he enjoyed traveling our country very much, he also indicated all of the states he wanted his ashes spread. I told him that was a bit inconvenient as they included practically all of the lower 48. I remember telling him, that it's not like I would want to go on a cross-country trip after losing him and I found his wishes to be somewhat unreasonable. He just laughed and told me to stand on a bridge and sprinkle him on a big-rig truck passing below, if that made it easier for me. I would have never, in my right mind, think that it would be such a short time in the future that the idea of this would my reality.
My son and I did bring a little of my hubby with us on our journey. Sounds strange to say, but it was a couple of tablespoons. We knew just where, if we were to do so, that we would sprinkle him. The thing holding us back was the idea of letting him go~ even if it was just a little part of him. The consolation I kept in my mind was that the real spirit of my husband did not lay in those ashes, but was alive and constantly with us in everything we did. I knew my husband would have liked this. In the same area I looked for a sign of his approval. Within moments, I saw it. Two pieces of driftwood. One, in the shape of a boat and the second a very beautiful stick. My son had been searching high and low for the perfect stick. With the stick he drew into the sand the letters of my husband's name surrounded by a heart. It took him more than an hour to do this as he made each letter big enough to see from the stars.