A Scattering of Ashes

Last Saturday a select few, myself included dragged our arses to the top of Kingley Vale to scatter the last of my Mum’s ashes. It’s complicated, so here goes.

On the Friday after the Crematorium service (14th and 18th July respectively) my mums husband wanted a quiet scattering of ashes, as she had requested on the top on Kingley Vale in West Sussex. Only he’s 72 and not really capable of walking to the top, in fact he didn’t even make it to the base from the car park until his legs started playing up. We got to the first copse where I scattered and he watched in silence.

I really wanted to do a more fitting tribute, so I keep a few ashes back (roughly her feet) and arranged a seconding scattering at the summit.

So, on the 16th at 1pm, my sister Helen, her husband Chris, Marky my first love/very good friend and I met I the car park just north of West Stoke and commenced the climb to the top. I know you are thinking this all sounds very mountain climber speak when really it’s just a leisurely stroll up a hill. It is a leisurely stroll, if you go the right way. However, if the only person who’s done it more than a dozen times is in a green plastic tub, the second most familiar person hasn’t done it for nearly twelve years and the other three didn’t even know where Kingley Vale was until two days before, it’s very easy to go the hard way. And we went the hard way. For fifty minutes with clambered up the side of the hill at a 35degree angle, slipped in mud and nearly lost footing. But to the top we got, huffin' and puffin' except Marky who's related to the Enegiser Bunny!

At the top we were rewarded with 360 degree views of Chichester Harbour and the South Downs. After getting our breath back, we found a stick to act as a dibber and we planted sunflower seeds, had a gin and tonic, a laugh and a rolly. Then we scattered the remainder of my mum’s ashes. Helen held the tub with me and we all marvelled at the surreal nature of the whole day that had started with Big Mac’s for lunch (My mum loved Maccas, and no one ever really got it, except me). We even left a G’n’T in the bushes for later.

The path down was much easier.

Just this morning my sister said again that it doesn’t feel like she’s really gone, and I have to agree. Maybe it was because we lived in different continents, maybe it was because we would go without talking on the phone until we actually had something to say to each other (2 – 3 weeks), maybe because we’re both still in denial. Whatever the truth of this, I still think I have the realisation to come and when it does…it’ll hit hard.