Family Calamity: Part 1

First watch:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXkpZ1AZM2M

I wish I could say this didn't happen to me. I wish. Let me explain...

About four years after the death of Nathan's grandfather his family finally decided to scatter his ashes. Our daughter was a newborn so the event coincided with all the extended family coming to town. For some reason it was decided that the best place to leave his ashes would be on the intracoastal waterway, so we all met at The Chapel by the Sea - a modest outdoor worship area next to the campus where Nathan and I attended college.

As Nathan and I drove to the event we had to wonder why this took so long. Four years? Then we ultimately came to discuss the very scene shown above from The Big Lebowski. Nathan made sure to remind me, "We can't let anyone stand down wind." Ha! Seriously, that would be awful.

We arrived, greeted our extended family members, listened to his dad share stories about Grandpa and deliver a sermon. We sang from the hymnals that were somehow supplied from the trunk of Nathan's parents' SUV. Not sure if this is a regular thing to have 15 hymnals on hand.

The moment was coming. The family debated who should scatter the ashes; each person passing the duty off to someone else. Nathan's dad took on the responsibility. He clutched the box of ashes and lifted the lid. Everyone emotionally gathered around the sea wall to say a final goodbye prayer. It was at that moment, a moment that I so richly regret, that I saw Nathan's mom standing on the sea wall trying to capture the last moment on her camera. She had been in this family, had known grandpa so much longer, she deserved to be in the pictures. I convinced her to trade places, stand with everyone else, and let me take the picture. She quickly obliged.

I was trying to find my angle. The best, most poetic view I could capture. I wanted to make sure everyone was in the shot. I didn't take any time to consider anything else. Nathan's dad grasped the box of ashes and swung his arm back like it was the opening pitch of a baseball game.

It's hard to describe the next horrific moment. The moment I realized the wind had dramatically shifted my direction. A widespread doomsday-like cloud was rushing towards me. Every particle racing my direction. "Don't scream, you'll inhale him," I thought. I turned my back to the advancing ashes. Can I outrun this? I will try. Go diagonal! This assessment left me two paths: diagonal left into the plausibly shark infested sea, diagonal right: all clear. I was no match for the wind. I was quickly covered. Every inch. My black pants now soot colored. My hair chalky. My eyes burning. My lips and mouth gritty. My pace slowed because the worst was over, but I couldn't turn around. I just continued walking to the car. Nathan's family was in a state of quiet horror. Nathan's sister ran over, "Don't make it a big deal!" and lovingly patted down my outfit. What a futile effort. Nathan rushed over, "What should we do?" Go home. Nathan's dad passed by to put the hymnals away, "It's just a little dust." No, no not really. It's your dad. He is on my clothes. In my hair. My mouth. My eyes. My nose. I can picture his remains on a cellular level passing through my airway, into my lungs, somehow diffusing into my blood supply and my only hope is that in a few days he will be gone.

Nathan reluctantly informed his family we needed to leave. His mom pleaded, "but I brought Subway..." Not really interested in eating right now. Nathan took both sandwiches to go, picked up our innocent newborn daughter, and we hit the road. The car ride was silent. The kind of silence that builds. Then somewhere, someone broke. Who even knows what was said, but here is the gist of each of our arguments:

Nathan: We shouldn't have left. It was insensitive to the people who were mourning.

Me: #1. Alleged mourning is about four years late. #2. I am covered in your grandfather, which is evidenced by my pants: they were black, now they are light grey.

Nathan: I told you to move!

Me:When?! What did you say?

Nathan: I did this. (swishes his hands in the air)

Me: That is not TELLING me anything! (To prove my point:) Here I am going to tell you something, but don't look at me. (wildly flail my arms around) Can you tell me what I just said?

I think it is clear to most sane people who would win this battle. And this was the first time in our marriage where I really wondered where I went wrong in my life plans. (It's ok, I think this is normal for most married people. If not, you don't need to inform me that everyone does in fact live happily ever after).

The hours that followed that event were not nearly as dramatic. I called my mom and retold my story. She laughed uncontrollably. Sympathy is hard to come by. The next day was Thanksgiving, and Nathan's dad sang me a song he thought was appropriate: "I Want to Wash that man Right out of my Hair" from the musical Hairspray. This was complete with dancey arm moves.

It's one and a half years later, and I now know this is funny. Not just a little funny. It's hilarious.

yours,

Tiffany