Good for the environment

Tags

author, death, Design, Family, Home, Houses, inspiration, Life, writing

I’ve always envisioned being buried in a cavernous mausoleum, with a large bar and seating area. (That way I know my kids would visit.) However, I just learned of a new option: reefball burials.

 A “reefball” is a large mass of rough concrete in the shape of a ball. Holes are deliberately left in it to allow fish and other creatures to use it for feeding, security and development. The cremated remains or “cremains” of an individual are incorporated into an environmentally safe cement mixture and installed in a marine environment that can benefit from an artificial reef. (I wouldn’t be fish food.)

Imagine – a final resting place that helps restore marine environments and establishes new habitats for fish and other sea life. A Sarasota Company, Eternal Reefs, is the only firm in Southwest Florida currently providing such a service. There are more than 750,000 reef balls in oceans around the world, according to the company.

It’s nice to think that, even after my death, I could support marine life long into the future. Plus, my kids love boating, so maybe they would still visit…

Renee Garrison is the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,” and “Anchored Together.” She is President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.

Keeping loved ones close

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cremation, death, inspiration, Life, loss, love

“I need your help.”
Kathy’s voice quavered on the phone – not unusual for a woman whose husband recently died.
I arrived at her home to find her holding a silver bracelet with a hidden compartment for ashes, a filling kit and a tiny screwdriver. Her hands shook.
Following the cremation of a loved one, many people like Kathy aren’t sure of the best way to store the ashes. Rather than placing all of the cremains in one large urn, cremation jewelry is a way to share the ashes with family (who may want to keep a small portion) or simply to keep a loved one close. [See: “Remembering Mom,” May 4, 2014]
My sister opted for a glass pendant that was made using a small amount of our mother’s ashes. I chose a gold teardrop charm, which I’ve worn to weddings, graduations and birthday celebrations. (My mother loved a good party.)
No one knows who/what I am wearing, just as no one admiring Kathy’s bracelet will suspect its contents. Yet, the simple act of wearing these items helps us cope with the loss of someone we loved.
Indeed, jewelry offers such a splendid form of therapy.

The children who never leave us

Tags

death, dogs, euthanize, Family, grief, loss, pets, sadness

 

The sight of her hairbrush nearly killed me.
I’d put all of her toys away before that final trip to the vet. Her ceramic dishes had been washed and packed in the garage. But I’d missed the brush that I’d used on her silky hair hours earlier. It lay on my nightstand, next to the eye drops she would never need again.
I crumpled and cried, as I have done many times since….once in a store aisle where dog toys and beds were displayed. Another time, as I admired a bolt of aqua fabric until I realized it was printed with tiny white dogs.
I loved her for 17 years – about the same age my children were when they left for college. But they came home for holidays.
She will not.
You might think the absence of a blind, deaf dog who rarely made a sound would not leave a large void in my life.
You would be wrong.
Dogs are the children who never leave us, who always are available to be loved.
That is quite a lot.
I’ve always sympathized with friends who had to euthanize their pets. (In fact, one still cannot speak of the occasion without bawling – though it happened several years ago.) My sweet friend Lynn suggested that I find the toys still bearing Dixie’s scent and breathe it in. Kind Beth confided that she carried a collar in her purse for years after her beloved pet died.
I slipped Dixie’s nametag on my bracelet and it jingles the way it once did on her collar. I take comfort in this, because it reminds me of the days when she still could run to the door and greet me.
The grief comes in waves, as I remind myself of the many blessings in my life. My children – who left long ago – are healthy, prosperous and living in faraway cities. For this, I am grateful.
But I wonder how long it will take me to heal from the loss of my youngest, four-legged one…