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.