Last year, I buried my wife’s and stepdaughter’s ashes under the tree in my back yard. It felt like the right thing to do at the time and still does. I have no regrets about this.
Every time I look at the tree, I think of my wife. I look at it almost everyday. I see how it changes with the seasons. I watch for the buds to appear, the leaves to turn bright green and for the summer explosion of color.
Before my wife died, I asked if she wanted me to do something special with her ashes and she said, “Put me in the ground somewhere, I’m a dirt girl.“
She was. For the 29 years we were together, Ellen played in the dirt. She was an avid gardener who made our home and our yard into an oasis. She would work in the garden for hours on end, happily humming to herself, tending to the plants, weeding, planting, watering and feeding.
I like to think that she is bringing my Crepe Myrtle back to life after an ill advised and severe pruning I did 2 years ago. I know she would smile at the thought of being in her final resting spot next to her daughter Liz.
I miss you Babe.
