My dad stood on the hill with the love of his life. They had hiked up to a knoll which was on the foothills that rose up from the town of Upland. As they stood there, he proclaimed that he wanted to build a house here, here on the hill. No roads to get there, no lot to build on, no utilities were there, nothing but a hill. My mom thought he was nuts. I’m not sure, but I think it might have happened while they were still dating. Well, as many of you know, it happened.
From 1968 until about 2000 they lived in the two houses that he built on the hill. The star house and the round house. That was where I grew up. All of my memories I have, of being a kid and becoming an adult, happened here. Here on the hill.
So, on a clear day with a great view, we spread the ashes of my mom and dad here in the foothills above Upland. Almost four years after the fact, due to covid and my stroke, my sister and her husband were able to come down from Northern California and we celebrated, once again, the lives of our parents.
I wasn’t sure how it would make me feel and I wasn’t sure how it would work. I had never been a part of spreading ashes. But my sister and I put together a plan of sorts.
I don’t know if it was a sign of what was to come. But as we were hiking up to the clearing, there on the knoll we saw two deer. They watched us for several seconds and then they bounded off. It was really cool.
As we were waiting for everyone to arrive, I told my grandkids, ages 5 and under, let’s get some rocks to make a memorial. After a couple minutes of helping them gather some rocks we had enough for a small pile. The plan was to bury some ashes under the memorial pile of rocks, and then spread the rest.
As the kids played, we started to share some memories. After about 15 minutes of reminiscing we went to bury some of the ashes. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, the kids weren’t really playing but actually were still gathering rocks. And what was a small pile became a large pile. And all the kids helped construct our memorial. The actual memorial stone was engraved with a grinder. Yeah, a one-eyed man and his tools.
To spread the ashes, we had baggies filled with ashes for everyone. As everyone stood in a straight line, our backs to the wind, we spread the ashes over the whole area. Unfortunately, since everyone was participating there were no pictures. Since there was still a lot of ashes, in a finale of sorts, we had someone strong send the ashes as high as they could. There is a picture of that.
There was such a sweet spirit over everything that was done. All and all, It was a pretty cool day.
Very meaningful to me, also. They were special people–George with his creativity and technical ability to bring it to life, and Joyce with hospitality so broad that it included everyone who came.
I remember the time vandals came to the round house not yet enclosed and stole her electric
frypan but left the electric cord. Such a mean and meaningless act. What can someone do with a cordless electric frypan? But that act did not ruffle their peace. Right now I am enjoying the arbor he constructed along our back fence for our wisteria vine. It is beginning to bloom and always makes me thankful for George. Our works live on even when we are gone. Aunt Thelma
Really great post Karl. I responded before but it’s worth saying again it was a wonderful & very meaningful time. Your parents, the star house & the round house will always be wonderful memories for me. Thanks for waiting for our trip down to do this.