Scattering in Scotland

Tue 10 May 2011 Filed in: My Life | Grief Notes

The first funeral I can remember attending was for my Uncle Bill. He was a godly man who had served the Lord faithfully, but I wasn’t sure that he would actually have liked his funeral. What I later came to recognize as a fairly common temptation to excess in American funeral practices was a bit jarring to me. My mother’s response to her brother’s funeral was stronger. She expressed a firm wish that after her death, her body be donated to a medical school for the training of doctors, a commitment that only became stronger with the passing years. Mom had already taken care of the paper work so that when she passed away five years ago, it was easy for us to follow her wishes, knowing that she was joyfully in the presence of the Lord she loved, and her body went to the USC School of Medicine.

About a month before her death, she reminded us of her desire, and then added that if for any reason USC refused her body, she wanted to be cremated and her ashes interred at Grandview Cemetery in Glendale, California, where my older brother’s ashes were buried. Realizing that we could fulfill both of her requests and provide a sense of “place” since USC offers to return the cremains when they are finished, we planned accordingly.

Meanwhile, and unknown to us at the time, Grandview was immersing itself in a scandal. The woman who was operating the old family-run cemetery had been playing fast and loose with the law, including selling the same plots twice. When the state sent an investigator, he found a terribly run-down cemetery, grounds that had not been maintained, mausoleums with damaged crypts and in-use coffins left sitting in the mausoleum, and some four thousand sets of cremated remains stored in the basement with no easy method of inventorying them. The state imposed a set of mandates that the cemetery was unable to meet, and the cemetery was closed and placed under court supervision. Renovations are taking place as a result of a recently settled court action, and the place is for sale, but it remains under court supervision with limited access, and interring Mom’s remains there would have required a court order.

So when USC called and said Mom was ready to be picked up, we had a problem. As Jon and I talked over our options, we decided a wiser choice would be take her ashes back to Scotland and scatter them in Clydebank where Dad’s were scattered 23 years ago. That is how the current trip came to be, and that is why on Monday, we gathered on a green hillside at the Clydebank Crematorium, just a mile from Mom’s childhood home for the most poignant moments of the trip. It wasn’t exactly what Mom had planned; it was better, and I suspect she is smiling in heaven. Laugh


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