Home » Love » Per Your Request – What Pegman Saw

Per Your Request – What Pegman Saw

This week Pegman is at Rawson Lake in Alberta, Canada. Thanks to some intrepid travelers, you can tour the area yourself via streetview (actually I should say trailview) or chose a photosphere. (Rawson Lake, Karen Rawson?Β  Coincidence? I think not!)

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Once your piece is polished, please share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Okay… so my story has nothing to do with this particular lake… and I confess there is not one bit of fiction either…

Thank you, always, to Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly challenge!

Per Your Request

You told me where you wanted me to spread your ashes: one of the lakes where you went fishing with your buddies and “Bass Alley” on the St. Lawrence River. You told me what you wanted as your urn, too. Remember? You showed me one of your collectible Coke bottles and said, “This one.”

Too soon, that day came. I went down to the basement, collected that bottle and emptied it. Was shocked there was still a “pssshhhht” sound when I opened it. Next day brought it to the funeral home.

Spring came, and our boys went with your best friends on the requisite fishing trip. I gave them half of you in a mason jar. They performed a beautiful ritual and let you go.

It’s been over three years and I still haven’t released the rest of you. I don’t know why, really. Maybe because I’m not ready to.

 

*********

 

63 thoughts on “Per Your Request – What Pegman Saw

  1. Oh, this made me cry, Dale. Funny how breaking such a heartbreak down to these “little” details makes it feel so much more real, more solid somehow, than the impossible hugeness of the whole experience of losing someone you love so much.

    • It made ME cry too! I was rather shocked at my own reaction… sheesh…
      I truly believe my breaking it down has been a great way to move forward, strange as that sounds. I am truly at peace and good… once in a while, though…

      • I know what you mean, I can punch myself out of the blue with certain feelings that I didn’t realize would have that strong of an effect. Heck, sometimes I’ll sing some cheesy song I wrote about a breakup decades ago and find myself crying all over again! I’m glad to hear you’re at peace, but yeah, not surprising to find bumps in the road along the way.

        • That happens to me too… Sometimes I just see a stupid trailer – for camping – and get all misty-eyed… don’t get me started on singing cheesy songs that get you.
          Yes, I think it’s to be expected now and again…

  2. Dale, this made me cry. It was touching and moving and brought back a ton of memories. God I miss Mick. Why do the good ones leave us so soon? Although I don’t have a boat anymore I would still love to arrange spreading some of him at bass alley along with you and the boys. I often think of him. His easy going nature. His ability to bring a bunch of people together and have a good time. His laugh. His smile. His friendship. He was a good one that Macisaac. I hope he is enjoying a cold one somewhere over yonder. Knowing him, I’m sure he is.

    • Paul, my friend – who I miss…
      It made ME cry to write it! Bloody hell. We all do. I swear, my mother, sisters, obviously me and the boys… but so many talk of him all. the. time. That MacIsaac was definitely one of the good ones.
      Well, if ever you do have access to a boat, I would definitely be in. I feel I am disrespecting him by keeping him locked up.
      And yeah, he’s definitely having a cold one… He has way too many friends over yonder to drink with.
      Lotsa love,
      Dale xoxo

  3. Dale,

    If this doesn’t make the reader cry, nothing will. I mean, not that I cried . . . much.

    It’s just such a beautiful piece, of him and of you . . that wonderful word called ‘us’ that you will always share with Mick. And if I may be so bold as to say, I don’t think you should ever release the rest of him. You moved on, because we have to move on, even when it doesn’t seem fair or possible to do so. But it doesn’t mean you let go. Hold on to that piece of him.

    Tell you one thing. The angels have some fine company.

    Peace, love, Coke and Mick

    • Marco,

      I truly did not intend to make anyone cry (least of all myself, which I did, way more than I expected.)

      I think that is why I have never done so, despite that Paul has offered – above (one of the friends who went with the boys). I’m not saying I won’t, though. I might keep a little bit but not all. Holding on to the memories, writing these little stories, are all ways of doing so without being macabre…

      They do, indeed. And the party has definitely been in full swing since his arrival, tell you what!!

      Peace, love, Coke, Mick and wonderful memories

  4. This is lovely, Dale. Real and raw and tender and full of a lot of things that don’t quite have words but sure have feelings. It is interesting to me that I read this after I’d written mine (though mine is fiction, it is not all fiction … as anyone who’d lived long enough, and some who didn’t .. would know). And … well … just to say that nature has a way to crystalize emotion. Hugs to you and thank you for a wonderful story, and for the photo. That made it all oh-so-real. Na’ama

  5. Beautifully written and sad, and loving, and- and – and… sigh… When I brought my Mom’s ashes home I was told that my heart would tell me when… I still have a small tiny little jar of her… Despite the evil of her, I can’t bear to part with. It’s in one of those Tim Holtz pocket watches along with her pic and a lock of hair. She loved pocket watches… used to take them apart and rebuild them just for fun.

  6. Dear Dale,

    As I scroll through your comments I see that mine has been repeated more than once. This is easily one of your best. I could go on and on and others have. So I will simply say, you aimed for the heart and hit the bull’s eye. The last line is the clincher. Applause, my friend! Brava!

    Shalom & lotsa hugs,

    Rochelle

    • Dear Rochelle,

      There are times when a piece writes itself and even if you go back to try to modify it, it won’t let you. I tried. Had to go back and return it to its original. That last line shocked me to tears. How does that happen?

      Lotsa love,

      Dale

  7. Dear Dale
    That’s lovely writing. I’m sure Mick would appreciate the way you have used your skill as a writer to produce this fine tribute to the love you shared together.
    With very best wishes
    Penny

  8. and who says you ever have to release the rest – oh no – Dale – always with you forever.

    and perfect take on the prompt – and loved seeing the photo and this helped me see more of your background and i already gave you the resilience award to it helps to see more of the details via posts.

    and side note –
    very casually my spouse and I have shared where we want our ashes spread (but no time soon – Lord willing) and his choice is Mary Jane ski slope in Winter Park CO

    • Who says, indeed? Though I’m thinking of spreading a little (must not get caught, it is illegal) on our son’s grave. The rest, I’ll see…

      Resilience award, eh? Thanks… I cannot help but use him as my muse at times… I saw the lake, chose this pic and my hands took over.

      It’s an important thing to discuss… Mick was joking around but not… then said he wanted chicken wings and beer to be served by sexy waitresses. He got the wings and beer, I just couldn’t see the sexy at the funeral home where we held it. I kinda wish we had a friend with a bar so we could do it Γ  la “P.S. I Love You”!

      • funny about the waitress
        and love ya right back – and glad you bring all this freshness to the blogosphere –
        and even though death and grief is a tough subject – and not for everyone –
        I think so many of your posts might have a rippling effect you never intended – it gets a concversation going about a heavy topic – and who knows the resource it could be in years to come.
        In 2014 – I once read all these posts on a shut down health site and I was moved, encouraged, and helped so much.
        Those people will never know
        and the posts were old – but content so rich and I have a feeling your blog will have a legacy like this – where people get caught up in it – and get moved, encouraged, and helped

        • Right? I would have loved to honour that one but… come ON! πŸ˜‰
          Thank you so much for this. Oh my goodness… to be told such! I am honestly blown away.
          It’s funny, because it is in December, 2014 we lost Mick… ironic.
          I’m flabbergasted… Thank you, Yvette. Your words have touched me to the core.

          • yes – I agree – not ideal. And the way you write – well I now can still hear that bottle opening – so cool…
            and wishing you a great rest of your day

          • So cool… that bottle was at least 20 years old!
            You too… I start my work shift…in this 33Β°C, feels like 37Β°C heat….

          • have fun at work and stay cool (in all the ways it applies – – heat, temperament, hairstyle, sunglass selections, etc. – lol)

            I am off to yoga – a night class – was looking forward to it all weekend –
            and was fighting something off yesterday and so feeling almost 100% today is like a gift (good ol’ immune system- so grateful)

  9. Dale, this reaches me in the bottom of my heart. I experience your writing as being about the fully human, vulnerable you missing your wonderful Mick. I am stuffed with tears to be shed in the future. ❀

    • Thank you so much, Ina. It’s weird how it all comes out in the writing… it sure helps when my audience is as loving and supportive as you 😘

  10. Touching and from the heart. Peace to you … and personally, don’t feel compelled to release the other half. … well, at least not all of it. Question: Did you taste the coke?

  11. Dale, a beautiful homage. My mother died six months ago and so i too had feelings, locked away and silent, suddenly stirred by your open, honest piece. All we can do sometimes is capture a bit of it in words, but never can we write the longing, the absense, away. It stays like a filter on a lens, coloring everything. But it Sounds like you, like me, apprecate your luck in having briefly shared the world with such a fine spirit. Now Im the one crying!

    • Thank you, Andrea. My condolences to you. It’s amazing how things get buried deep and I am thankful I took up writi g a blog. Gets all that stuff out plus, we receive love from around the world!
      Tears are good. They cleanse… xoxo

  12. I remembered from before the Coke bottle – such a touchingly personal way to keep someone close to you. So much more ‘him’ than a generic urn. How lovely your boys and Mick’s friends had that day at the lake too – those left behind need those times to talk, to remember, just to be with others who loved him too. As others have said, thank you Dale for sharing a tiny part of your life with Mick with us

    • Thank you, Lynn.. yes, I figured those who have been around for a bit might have remembered Mick’s “urn” πŸ˜‰
      Part of the quirkiness that we were.
      Yes, I’m glad the boys and friends had their moment.

      • He always sounds like a nice man when you write about him and your love for him shines through your writing. How did your NaNo project about him advance by the way?

          • It’s hard to fit things in when you have so much else going on. Funny, when you’ve spent a lot of time with someone, you wonder what your life – what you yourself – would be like if you’d never met them. Best wishes, Dale

          • So very true… But, I had 20 years with him. Most of them good. Now, he’s my muse so often so he sticks around a bit. Not that I am not moving forward…. but he’ll always be a part of me.

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