2024-04-26 12:43:21
I’m standing at security at the airport and I’m breaking out in a sweat. I almost feel like a smuggler who wants to secretly bring goods into the country. Dad rests in the depths of my purse. In a heart made of wood, the inside of which is hollow and can be closed. I convinced the funeral home to let me have some of his ashes. Now I’m on my way to San Francisco, the city of my father’s heart. He has raved about “the City by the Bay” all his life. A branch of his family emigrated there a hundred years ago. I want to scatter Dad’s ashes from the Golden Gate Bridge. A symbolic act. My brother and I found this idea comforting that a part of him would remain in his favorite place. Everything was already prepared and booked, but then Corona came. The wooden heart on the mantelpiece had to wait three years, but now my father and I are finally setting off.
#fathers #ashes #San #Francisco #difficult #journey