Scattering

In the morning, we gathered together and told stories. We talked of rented refrigerators and bird feeders. The manor and the mill. The glove factory. Scrabble. Boggle. BA, BA, BA. An ever expanding circle of friends. Home cooked meals. Modest beginnings. Kitchen renovations. First class train tickets. Gifts from warm hands. We knew we were cherished and loved. Sources of pride and joy.

When the tide receded, but not before it went out, we found a pool. Small enough that we could all gather at its side. Big enough for the enormity of its task: holding our grief, our memories, our joy – and allowing us another chance to say goodbye. The pool drained via a tiny stream running down the gentle slope of the beach. Random in its progress. Traveling around rocks crusted with barnacles, over broken shells, fragments of sea plants, and creating swirls in the sand. Populated by tiny skittering crabs. A gentle pathway – next steps on a journey through eternity – into the ocean.

Each in turn, and held by one another we did our best to let them go. Brass cups full of grief and gratitude. Carefully mixed to hold some of each. Held by children, grandchildren, great grandchildren. An entire bloodline – those who knew them, those who did not, and those who had graciously been welcomed to the fold – all guardians of their legacy.

We passed the day with one another. Baking in her tradition. Combing the beach with his curiosity. Sharing meals. Steering clear of the dishwasher. After all – it’s a one man job.

When the sea creatures came, they arrived under cover of night. The tide at its full height. The sea glowing with bioluminescence under tentative footsteps along the darkened shoreline. The sky filled with stars, meteors, satellites. They announced their arrival with a breath. A massive single exhalation. Long enough for us to stop our conversation, notice that something quite out of the ordinary had transpired and listen. Listen we did. More exhalations. Tails slapping the water. Up and down the inlet they roamed. Breathing. Sleek and streamlined bodies manufacturing giant splashes through playful displacement. We strained our eyes in the dark. Hoping for a glimpse of spray or a tail. Anything that would confirm what we hoped was true. We debated. Considered multiple possibilities. And then we felt certain: orcas. We sat in silence together waiting for more. Individually marvelled by our good fortune – that after this day of stories and mourning and meals and togetherness we would be granted one more gift.

Is it appropriate to wonder how, on that night, after that day, it should come to pass that majestic whales would choose to visit our tiny inlet? Of all the possible inlets on all the possible days? What other emotion should we have felt other than to be awestruck by the coincidence?