I went up to London with my sister, Liz, to reminisce and visit the place where we scattered our Grandmother, Margaret’s ashes over twenty years ago. She was a very important person in my life and my muse. Her stories inspired me to write Love, Life and Lemons. We chose Hill House Gardens in Hampstead as her final resting place as we had so many happy memories of time spent with her and our grandfather there. Their house backed onto the ornamental gardens where we have stilted cine films of us running round the fishponds and chasing one another under the wisteria and clematis clad pergola.
Hers are the only ashes I have scattered to date, and the experience didn’t pan out in the way I expected. I imagined a tranquil scene in a beautiful setting, maybe a bit of sunshine, where the three of us, Liz, my father and myself were alone and would slowly scatter her remains while reminiscing. Instead, the gardens were teeming; it seemed as if half of London had chosen that day for a pleasant stroll in the January rain, and we suddenly felt like criminals taking part in some sordid ritual.
Being British we felt paranoid about doing something out of the ordinary and I began questioning whether scattering someone’s ashes in a public park is illegal. Consequently, an imagined lasting memory of a poignant moment in time transformed into a clandestine and extremely rushed affair where we looked more like we were burying a dead body!
Now I understand why people scatter ashes in memorial gardens; however, doing that would have been so impersonal somehow. Putting her under the bush we chose was a final act of rebellion for her, and that resonates with me, as she was a bit wild back in the 1930s. So much so, that she has become my muse and is one of the protagonists in Love, Life and Lemons. Below is the poem I felt moved to write about this experience.
Scattering Grandma’s Ashes
I wanted to take her
Back to the 1970s and
Happier times. Pre-divorce,
Affairs and dissonance.
We returned her to the
Ornamental gardens, where
Black and white photographs
Portrayed a smiling family.
We stood, a furtive triangle
Circumnavigating her favourite
Tea rose bush and waiting for that
Opportune moment that never came.
The fragrance, sweet, enveloped us
As we emptied her, she swirled like
A thousand white moths fluttering,
Spiralling down to the dark, cold earth
I was the only one to say a prayer.
We played different cine films
Through In our minds where
She was always in the starring role.
As the rain fell we abandoned
The urn and walked, a father
And his two daughters facing
A less inspiring future.
Love, Life and Lemons 