You and the family stand alone on the rocky shore. The weather is more appropriate this time; it’s overcast with a slight somber chill in the air. 

No sacrilegious sunlight. 

Mom was the first to pour the ashes into the bay. Next was Aunt Marie, who brought a bouquet of flowers to lay in Dad’s watery tomb.  

It’s windy and what you expected to happen happened. 

When one of your brother’s went to spread the ashes, the wind kicked up and sprinkled just a bit of Dad onto the other’s face.

You stifle a smile. You like to think this was Dad’s last playful gesture. 

It’s your turn. 

You've missed some funerals. Two grandparents and an uncle’s to be exact. 

At least this time you’re here. 

Mom stands beside you. She rubs your back and kisses your cheek.

 

‘I’m very happy that you’re home sweetie.’

‘Me too mom.’

 

You pour Dad into the bay. And it hits you.

The emotion that was lodged in the back of your throat. 

‘Goodbye dad’ is all you can muster. 

Anything more would leave you broken.