Yosemite

The universe is in your bones, the stars in your soul; it’s never really the end.
-David Jones

Mark and I had always agreed that when we died we wanted to be cremated. What to do after that was never discussed because even though we frequently said, “You can’t get out of here alive,” it turns out we never actually believed it. In those conversations about the inevitable, I knew I always wanted to be the one that went first. Life without Mark seemed like it would be so boring (and it is), and I thought that if I went first he’d have his work to pour himself into whereas I’d struggle to fill my days with any sort of meaning.

After the funeral was over and Mark’s ashes came home with me, I had no idea of how, when, and where to spread them. Or should I spread them? Maybe they should stay in the house with me? As time went on it became more obvious that keeping them wasn’t a good idea. The downstairs bedroom became the catchall for everything from the funeral and his office, and on top of the bed sat the box with his ashes; a constant, daily reminder that dust was all that was left. I couldn’t look at them any more and so I put them in my closet where they stayed a constant, daily reminder but one that didn’t seem to jolt me so much.

Two years ago Mark and I went to Los Angeles to visit our youngest daughter who had moved there to pursue a dance career. On our bucket list was to cross another national park off and go to Yosemite. Like everything we did in our lives, we planned none of it ahead of time. The idea was that we would drive up there, see the park, get a room for the three of us for the night, go back to the park for a few more hours the next day and then drive back to Los Angeles. Before we had a chance to consider that there was an outbreak of wild fires in Yosemite that was making the news, and so we decided to postpone it until our next visit. Because of our disappointment of not being able to go there, I mentioned to the kids that maybe that was the place that we should spread Mark’s ashes. While I probably would have mulled that over for too long never committing to anything, one of those kids has been a school teacher for years and knows how to hit the accelerator and get people moving.

We decided that getting out of our environment during the week of Father’s Day and Mark’s birthday seemed like the best time to go. For weeks prior I had terrible anxiety about the whole idea. I questioned whether or not it was the right decision, if it was something that I wouldn’t be able to go through with, if not being able to see his remains in a box in the closet would tip the scale for me from barely coping to insanity. But plans were made, flights and an AirBnB were booked, and a time frame established to pick up the youngest Fisher. We landed in LA and headed north for a shaky family adventure.

As soon as we got one look at that stunning park I knew it was the right thing to do. Mark would have loved it, and though the absence of him broke me many times over, we all very much felt him right alongside of us. I hoped that meant he was giving his stamp of approval for this idea. We left his ashes along the biggest trees, and on the forest floor between two saplings. We left them in small creeks and roaring rivers, and I knew if he was there he would have disappeared to walk along the bank only to come back and say, “You won’t believe the size of the fish in here, Kath.” It was along one of those rivers that I bent down and scooped some of that cold, clear water in my hand and drank it, hoping it would baptize all of us with some peace. We cried at every place we left him and then would silently walk away, all lost in our thoughts that vacillated like the river between calm and roaring, and was it only the roaring that Mark heard that early Tuesday morning?

I didn’t get to go first like I wanted to, and his life didn’t end with the peace and love that he lived most of his days, but we finished the job that none of us wanted. We delivered Mark to his final destination to join the drumbeat of life that he was insatiably curious about, and every night we go to sleep under the same moon which will have to do for now.