It stands at about 10″ high, is the circumference of a small, misshapen watermelon and is very deceptively heavy. I can’t imagine the ‘ashes’ themselves would be of any significant weight, so I blame the heaviness on the clay urn; but for now it is sealed, so I can’t be too sure just yet. The temptation to take the lid off and tip the contents out onto the lawn, in order to do a proper scientific weight comparison was almost too overwhelming, so I put it away, far from my morbid need to investigate further. I can’t imagine the rest of the family would be too pleased to find that I had dumped Jim out onto the front lawn just to ascertain why the whole package was the weight of a grossly overfed lap dog.

Perhaps I will have to write a strongly worded letter to the funeral home to point out that they might want to consider using a lighter receptacle in the future, as the recently bereaved are not renowned for their strength and weight lifting capabilities.

Dad’s wish, of course, is to have his ashes shot out of the cannon. The logistics and practical execution of this all is still a bit of mystery to us, and I keep pointing out that it might be a bit tricky to not have the entire cloud engulfed in a gust of wind and blown back into the house and… onto all of us. I can’t imagine Jim would have found anything more hilariously satisfying than to see us all scampering so as not to be cloaked in ‘dust’. I am going to make sure I stand behind Trudy, just in case.

This was the cannon explosion from his life celebration party last week Saturday. To have this sort of ridiculousness as one of your life legacies, in my humble opinion, is a life well lived.

Ashes to ashes, dust to…cannon explosions.
Well played dad, well played.