I celebrated my late father’s birthday last week by walking through the woods where his ashes are scattered. I drank a little scotch. I talked to him like he was walking with me. It felt nice.
When I looked down, I saw that the wild ramps, ramsons, and spring onions are coming up in the woods. I know they would have come up without my dad’s ashes there, but I still like to think he had something to do with it. It would be just like him to try to find use for his body even after he left it.
My dad had more integrity than anyone else I know. He liked to have purpose, and he was almost too honest. He couldn’t find a dollar on the ground without trying to find its owner. And while he didn’t tell me he loved me very often, he did have a different love language: he always knew when it was time for my car’s oil change. He took good care of things, and I was one of those things.
His love was deep and sturdy. As today’s world gets flashier and crazier, I find myself missing his quiet, reliable love. I find that love most often these days in nature.
Reader, if you’re like me, you were undone by our unhinged president threatening to wipe out an entire civilization last week. I wish I could offer consolation, but I cannot. What I can offer is the truth: there are more of us that crave the calm than there are those who wish to destroy it. Unfortunately, the latter group is louder and powerful.
Look to Mother Nature when the voices of loud men trouble you. And don’t fear those men: they’re not as secure as they appear. Let’s try to focus our efforts on protecting our peace and changing what we can this week. I’ll see you next Monday. -Em
