George Brown
By George Brown

Each year Memorial Day and Father’s Day converge, with my Dad’s birthday tucked in between. And each year these three celebratory occasions draw my mind to a contemplative reminiscence of how Dad lived his life.

He and Mom divorced when I was barely a year old and he and I didn’t see each other again until I was 19 and he 47; and so it was that he offered no fatherly guidance during my formative years. But that which I observed in him as we spent time together during my adult years more than made up for his absence during my childhood.

I consider myself fortunate to have inherited his disposition and many of his behaviors, not to mention his physical features. For reasons difficult to put into words I find myself driven to emulate the wisdom and stature of character I observed in his life until his death, now 7 years past. As a tribute to his memory, I am again sharing with you the experience of participating in the scattering of his ashes.

The edges of the path were adorned with ferns, holly, and wildflowers, with a canopy of imposing Douglas Firs towering overhead, enough so to cool the forest floor despite the hot July sun overhead. Our short walk into these memorable woods had brought us to a small outcrop where the trees open to frame a panoramic view of the beautiful Nisqually Valley. In the distance we could see the shores of Puget Sound.

A short distance to our right Mt Rainier stood majestically above the horizon. This was indeed the perfect place to scatter Dad’s ashes – along this trail where he had seldom missed a morning walk during the last 25 years of his life – until, at age 89, he succumbed to a sudden heart attack. My Stepmom, Bee, whom Dad affectionately called his bride for all of their 43 years together, had thoughtfully selected this spot to scatter his ashes.

Dad lived a storied life that led him from his small hometown roots in Marion, Ohio to see much of the world before settling in Olympia, Washington. His remarkable journey had included a 25 year career in the Army where he rose to the rank of Command Sergeant Major, as he provided distinguished service in the Philippines during World War II, the Korea Conflict, and Vietnam.

Dad’s life story also included three marriages. He would be the first to tell you his service in this area was not always distinguished. But he got it right the third time, as he grew in wisdom, love, and goodness.

It was this goodness that drew four of his children, including the youngest from each of his three marriages, from our various homes across the country to share this celebratory walk with Dad’s bride, who has become “Mom” to all of us.

Over the years we four children had taken our turns walking this trail with Dad. Now we walked it together for the first time, not speaking of it but knowing this would likely be the last time we would walk this trail, with all of its memories and which Dad loved so much.

As the only son present, it was my honor to carry Dad’s ashes, snuggly tucked in a backpack which Mom placed on my shoulders- an act which I had not anticipated but which I realized instantly was just one of the thoughtful details she had planned for this day.

It was a circle-of-life moment as each one present took her and his turn casting a handful of Dad’s ashes into a soft breeze and then watching as the ashes gently floated to the ground. In age we ranged from Mom, in her late 70s at the time, to my twin four year old nephews who had known their Grandpa just long enough to have a few gems of his goodness planted in their minds.

As we completed our task of bidding Dad farewell and turned to walk home, I shared with Mom (who is Korean and Buddhist) a Buddhist verse I had read that morning. “Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out, and indeed the body too wears out, but the teaching of goodness does not age.”

Rest in peace, Dad. Happy Father’s Day and thanks for the example of goodness you shared with all of us.

George Brown is a freelance writer. He lives in Jackson Township with his wife Yvonne.