My Mother’s Burial
by Hannah O’Laughlin
My mother did not want to be cremated. So, naturally, we cremated
her. It was the right thing to do economically and environmentally, of course.
My mother wanted a small somber family funeral. We invited the entire
town and ordered pizza with olives and pineapples (her favorite) and danced
to Paul McCartney. Nobody wore black.
My mother wanted her body shut away in a metal box buried six feet
underground. Instead, we took her to the beach and threw her ashes into the
sea. We grabbed fistfuls of her and stuck our hands out of the bus windows
on the way home, letting the wind rip her from our hands. We climbed South
Sister and mixed her ashes with the dust on the top. We left her right at the
surface so that she could feel the pound of hiking boots on her back.
My mother wanted us to throw her things away. But, we gave them to
Goodwill instead. Now, sometimes we see her brown cowboy boots walking
down the street or her chunky gray sweater shopping in the grocery store.
My mother wanted to die. We didn’t let her.
Bloodroot by Matt Widen
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*Dedicated to
Professor Sarah Johnson