Conversations

By Joan Murray
I won’t tell you where we scattered my mother and father-in-law’s ashes since the laws in that state are probably different than our home state of California, although I’ve ignored some of their prohibitions in the past.

By Miriam Malone
My beloved father died seven months ago. It seems like yesterday and it seems like forever ago. He died with the utmost grace, peace, and dignity, his eyes wide open and a look of awe on his face, seeing something or someone (I’m sure my mother was there!) that my sister and I couldn’t see.

By Pam Perkins
Thirty years ago today my Daddy died, and I still miss him. The date of his death is certain, but the date of his birth was not. Lucky for him he got to pick a birth date that was his favorite month, a day he would always remember and a year that made him younger than he probably was.

by Susan Garrett
I really didn’t know what I was doing when I paid for my brother’s cremation and spent the last of his money for a boat to scatter his ashes. After he passed away, I talked with a person at Tamalpais Cemetery and just decided to do a scattering at sea. THEN I read my brother’s will, and discovered that that’s exactly what he wanted! I knew that I was on the right track.

by Fred Giari
I am 97 years old, waking up each day happy to be alive, looking around for teachable moments, and always remembering there’s more to life than just brushing my teeth. Born above Figoni’s hardware store in North Beach of San Francisco in 1913, I grew up playing at the corner of Columbus and Broadway.

by Joyce Anne Ware Longfellow
I grew up in a family that would not talk about death. When death happened we got a phone call, or telegram, or I ended up standing next to the closed casket or grave marker of someone I loved—always wondering where was Grandma, or Aunt Shirley, or Grandpa Barrows.