This is the cliff where I spread my dad’s ashes. It’s the view from the firepit. Below it is our stretch of the Meramec river. My family’s cabin is amazing. I’m glad I insisted on taking him there.
I was going to hike to this place called The Pinnacle. But (a) I underestimated how carsick I would get from the 30 minutes of brutal gravel back roads and (b) The Pinnacle, while only a mile away from the property, is a 3-4 hour hike due to the ridges and detours. So I was all HEY THIS CLIFF RIGHT HERE LOOKS GOOD.
It was a really pretty view overlooking our stretch of the Meramec River and miles of scenic hills (and cows!). HOWEVER when I threw the ashes, this totally almost happened:
Except only some blew back and they only got on my jeans before I dove away. My brother was like, “If that wasn’t dad, I would’ve laughed at you so hard.”
Did you know that ashes are really crushed up bone fragments, and that’s why people prefer to call them “remains”? That there are pebbles in there? And your fillings? And heart stints if you have them? Can you tell I’m not afraid of my Dad’s ashes at all?
Secretly Stephie 
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