Dust in the River

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Dust in the River

I hugged the box to my chest, about the sized of a car battery but not as heavy. I had a utility knife in my pocket. I came to the highest point of the hill, away from the parking area and set the box down gently.

Here we are dad. You asked for this. I want to give you the last thing I could since you gave me so much. I pried the wooden lid off the box and pulled up the condensed plastic bag. I had never seen human ashes before and was not sure what to expect. Gray little rocks and powder. Is this really you? I tilted the box and the powder started escaping. I shook the box as the tears ran from my eyes. It took a long time. The breeze high up in the hills skirted some of the powder and I saw it was clinging to my shawl and pants. I lifted the box higher and guided the plastic bag to aid in emptying it. It was hard to see, but I knew the river was at the bottom of the hill, the river that you loved so much. Now, you were a part of this river. Rain would take you down the hill and you would join the river as you wanted. A small task for me, a great dream for you.

The cancer took you quickly and as soon as you heard the diagnosis you weakened immediately. Some in the hospital and the last ones at home. Six weeks was all we had. I spent most days with you, making you comfortable, listening to your wishes and memories. I was honored to be with you when your grip on my palm eased.

Always, dad.

 

Angie Ferguson


Submitted: June 10, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Angie Ferguson. All rights reserved.

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