Photo credits

The Embalse de Riano in northern Spain. The picture was taken by .... me!

Monday, March 31

How it went

It went as well as pouting your mum's ashes in a plant pot can.

Those of the family who had been permitted by their wives to attend gathered around the plane plot in my sisters garden.  I day garden-
- it's just a small yard, with some other scruffy plant pots containing scraggy plants and a lot of weeds.  The plant plot they had chosen for my mums ashes was just a fake plastic one.  Admittedly a good fake, but plastic none the less.

We troweled in some compost, then a layer of mum, then the plant itself, and more compost.  The urn provided by the crematorium was also plastic, though it came in a nice velvety bag.  Inside the urn was my mum, wrapped in two plastic bags.  So I felt that they could have provided a bit more dignity.

The plant was a rose bearing my mothers name, so that is nice.

My brother-in-law then asked me to say a prayer, which I did.  Having not been particularly emotional until then, that was when the tears flowed.

So that is it: the end of an era.

She was a very good mother.  She never felt particularly maternal and it was always an effort for her (it was always Dad that played with us), but I would day that she did a fantastic job.  She will be very much missed.

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