Saying GoodBye to my Father
Journeying towards the ocean through the rocky Transkei, I couldn’t help but be swallowed by the rawness of the land. Road tripping from the smoky hustle of Gauteng through the sunflower filled Free-state and finally reaching the green mountainous Eastern Cape, I was invited by the land to let go, surrender and breathe in the magic. A desire to ‘find God through the land’ pulsed through me at each turn, through every province’s unique offering.
Every rocky hill we curved with was populated with quirky goats and ancient wise looking cows. As we traveled and experienced different spaces I was filled with awe thinking about the ancestors of the land and my ancestors that have traveled across and inhabited different parts of the land. Of course white ancestry is controversial in South Africa, whites being bunched as colonisers. Obviously there is truth in this but there is also much more truth and wonderment that crossed my mind and heart throughout the journey. This was especially heightened as the purpose of this road trip was to scatter my Father’s ashes in the ocean near Plettenberg bay – my Father now being an ancestor to me. I tried to imagine how it was for people of the land to move around with big oxen and supplies – how much patience this involved. I wondered how people lived and how they made coffee (glad we didn’t have to try figure that out!). What relationship did the people have with the land and animals?
The day before scattering my Father’s ashes, a wave of heavy realisation swept over the family as the reality of the purpose of our trip sank in a little deeper. Death is an everyday thing, yet it never ceases to surprise us. Death for me doesn’t only invite in grief, it calls for expansion, vulnerability and even deeper connection to my own divinity. Sounds all lovely and cosmic but sometimes it’s bigger than the space within me, so it’s quite an uncomfortable stretch. Waking up on the morning of April 22nd was a relief as the day had finally come. My dad’s favourite colour was pink so I made sure to wear pink lipstick with my favourite purple head scarf, while my sister requested to wear one of my pink and white head scarves.
Arriving at the main beach in Plettenberg Bay I was propelled to breathe deeper and hold myself as waves of emotion began to rise. The time it took the sea rescue men to haul the rescue boat across the beach and into the ocean was indicative of the long struggle that my dad faced before he passed. Mixed feelings of anxiety and relief rippled through me as we finally made our way out to sea. I pondered on how many people’s ashes had been scattered in the ocean all over the world – eerie yet comforting. As my brave step mom emptied the ashes into the ocean, I was overcome with grief – grief from my Father’s absence in my childhood, grief from visiting him in the US just under a year ago and hoping that this was the beginning of many – yet knowing that this was the end… grief of losing him. The ashes were gone, the boat was on the way back and the tears still poured. A surge of happiness filled my heart as I noticed a yellow butterfly following the boat – his spirit was free. Knowing that I can connect to him through the ocean really gave meaning to the concept of water ancestors. Knowing that butterflies are not always ONLY butterflies evened out the pain of ‘being left behind’. Fly, fly butterfly…RIP Raymond Gordon Bester.