For the Love of Chocolate

On Easter Sunday, we buried Ellie's cremains (don't you think Ellie would've liked that word?) on my sister and brother-in-laws property in Tennessee, named Pranee.   Pranee is absolutely gorgeous and while Wisconsin continues its pursuit of winter, summer had arrived in Pranee--full on green, flowers, blue skies.  The weather was so perfect that much of the time I didn't even contemplate whether or not I was hot or cold. 

When we arrived, Ghany suggested we walk around the property (60 acres!) and decide what spot felt right for the burial.  It seemed like a lot of pressure--I oscillated between feeling as if it was the biggest decision I would ever make and feeling too overwhelmed to make the choice,  to feeling as if this really didn't matter at all.  I mean Ellie left her physical body over 3 months ago.  Sort of a yin/yang feeling.   

[caption id="attachment_3790" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Betsy C and Lotta"][/caption]

Then, I had a sudden moment of clarity where I realized that this whole gathering was all about US being together.  Ellie was simply the excuse.  I thought about the time we were contemplating Ellie's first chemotherapy.  Betsy came to visit us and we discussed my fears in a Vietnamese restaurant, as Thom and Ellie walked around outside.  When the food arrived, our conversation switched to something more Ellie friendly.  Abruptly, Ellie said, "I don't want to die."  We were shocked because we, of course, had not mentioned our fear to Ellie.  (Just as I could read her mind when she was unable to talk, she was uncanny at being able to read mine.)  Betsy calmly explained that these bodies are merely crazy costumes we put on for awhile.  As we prepared to bury Ellie, I thought of THAT, we are just placing her costume here.  So often as of late, I find myself feeling Ellie's presence with me.  It feels as "real" as when someone walks up behind you and while you cannot see her, you suddenly feel her nearness. 

[caption id="attachment_3792" align="alignright" width="239" caption="One of the magnificent waterfalls."][/caption]

With all of these thoughts in my head, Betsy and I were walking near 2 gorgeous waterfalls.  I neared a statue of Quin Yin, who had been moved to the land from China by the previous owners.  I looked up at the big blue sky, through the trees, and saw the clouds racing by.  I recalled how Ellie and I used to take our dates to Willy Street Co-op and tell cloud stories.  If I recall correctly, it was more about Ellie seeing the same formation in each and every cloud and me sharing the stories of what I saw with her.  And I knew that this was THE spot.  It was as Ghany had said, it felt right.

We had our 2 ordained mininsters, my mom and Betsy C., say a few words.  Plus, Ben seemed to be channeling Ellie as he insisted on telling the group about the day Ellie died, just as he had his class.  He tried hard to make our somber group more jovial by cracking jokes.  It felt like all those times when Ellie so desperately wanted to be included in the conversation at hand.  As 

[caption id="attachment_3791" align="alignleft" width="179" caption="The angel above the costume Ellie wore."][/caption]

in all things Ellie related, there were lots of tears AND  laughter.  Betsy talked about Ellie's love of stories.  How she felt that our task now is to go forward and create the best, most amazing story so that when we see Ellie again, we can share.  And in her own Ellie way she will say, "REALLY?!?!"  Betsy said she felt as if everyone gathered was like Ellie's wall of love beside her bed, their stories were all present.  Then my mom talked about how she felt as if Easter was THE perfect day to bury Ellie, as this day is all about celebration and love and chocolate.   All the things Ellie stood for.

The most amazing thing was when we all walked back to the big red barn (the yoga retreat center where we slept and gathered and ate and ate and ate some more),  a gift of peacefulness swept over me.  One of those fleeting, delicious moments when all is well.