Standing on the end of the dock where my Dad’s ashes will be scatted one day mixed with my Mom’s I felt the arms of love wrapped around me. It was though Mona Lisa herself was smiling at me, bemused with anticipation.
After Dad died and was cremated my brother David said one night, “Mom, we’ve got to follow Dad’s wishes. We’re going to scatter his ashes in the marsh and then throw you on top.”
We’re not too sure about David.
Dutch Island is beautiful but my parent’s house is one of the pinnacles of splendor. The place had everything. A fantastic house that is decorated to look like the finest “Cracker Barrel” ever! It is full of antiques, pictures, old books and windows with breathtaking views.
There is a lush and manicured yard that seems to go forever, until it ends at the marsh that my Dad loved so much.
Then a dock that extends through the marsh to the tidal creek that we swim and float in.
And though my Mom used to be famous like me and was wildly successful in banking and collecting antiques, she has a bit of insanity that she passed on to my sister Age and me (David was skipped but neither Age or I are certain he actually shares our DNA anyway).
Mom decided that my Dad, beach bum that he was which I thank God every day that he passed that gene on to me, should have his own beach.
In the back yard.
So she built him one.
Trucks of sand were brought in. A lifeguard stand was built (though I’m not certain Dad ever actually got in it). A life preserver proclaims this to be “Billy’s Beach” and it was. And it is.
Dad was forever throwing parties and cooking oysters. For every special occasion, birthdays, anniversaries, divorces, Christmas, deaths (including his own day) … the oyster cooker would come out and we would feast.
So a couple of years after he died, Mom decided that it was time for an oyster roast. So it happened last night and about seventy people showed up to toast an incredible sunset over a golden brown marsh. There were lots of hugs and many laughs.
New friends were made and old friends were reacquainted. Mom fretted at the number of red wine drinkers who had shown up.
My cousin Jason fluttered around being in charge until he realized that nobody was listening to him so he stood around with the rest of us toasting and laughing and enjoying the hell out of a magic night.
David and I slid off at one point to talk about the future. He has one and I suppose that I do too. People kept interrupting us, obviously bothered that we may not share the same DNA, so it took us about an hour to finish our conversation. But I’m happy for him. And he seems to be inching closer to forgiving me.
Then as the stars twinkled and nighttime came, I walked alone back onto the dock. I wanted Mona Lisa’s smile again.
“Hey Dad,” I said to the marsh. “You’d love this.”
And a breeze kicked up and the marsh grass danced. I threw my wine into the tidal creek as the music of laughter sang from the sand on Billy’s Beach.
And Dad told me that he loves me still.
And was loving the hell out of this party.
