Almost the entire time I was growing up it seemed like
someone was living with us? My parents would have friends that were going
through difficult times and those people always seemed to end up living in our
guest bedroom or couch.
Wives would throw them out or they would lose their jobs
or go through some sort of rough patch in life and they would find themselves
sitting at our dinner table. They were all good people and my parents would
never expose us to anyone that they didn't trust. You have to understand that
my dad is a very intimidating man and feared by many, but deep down inside, had
a soft spot for people who just needed a little help from time to time.
Needless to say I called a lot of people I wasn't related to "uncle"
while growing up. It sounds more
official and easier to explain when introducing these people to friends.
"Uncle Rick" makes more sense than "This is Rick. His girlfriend
through him out of the house and he lost his job, so he's staying with us till
he gets back in his feet". Know what I mean?
When we first moved to Texas, one of the first friends my
dad made was Doug. Doug and his wife and kids loved just around the corner and
Doug worked with my dad. With Doug living around the corner, he and my dad
drove to work together and because of all these conveniences, they naturally
became drinking buddies. How he got the nickname "Deputy" is for
another time and another story.
Fast forward several years later...
We moved away, Doug and his wife divorced and Doug moved
in with us. You know the stories or see movies about people who become
"broken"? In short, that's
what happened to Doug. A few years later, after he moved away to Houston, Doug
died from what could be considered a mixture of alcohol and a broken heart. For
reasons that I am still not sure about till this day, Doug's ashes were given
to us. Not to his ex-wife. Not to his children, not to his family, but
bequeathed to a group of his closest friends.
What to do with dead Doug's ashes?
Doug loved Texas. In his youth he camped out for days and
traveled the back roads of the hill country. He knew every hole in the wall bar
in every county of central Texas and beyond. Doug had a very southern accent
and after just 2 beers, he would get harder to understand and sound drunk-even
when he wasn't.
He was once thrown out of Luckenbach Texas by a bartender
named Margie for sounding "too drunk". You gotta sound pretty drunk
to get thrown out of a bar in Texas. Perhaps it was more because Doug was a
terrible tipper? Doug getting thrown out, resulted in my dad and his friends
having to leave as well. You can't let your buddy just sit in the car for hours
and wait! Well you can, but it's just
not nice. This woman was a chip on his shoulder for years and my dad never
pulled any punches when making fun of Doug while telling this story. Margie was
about to receive a "gift" from Doug from beyond the grave. Doug's
best friend Bo hatched an idea and decided to take some of Doug back to
Luckenbach with him and to pay a visit to then woman that gave all of Doug's
friends so much storytelling ammo.
Bo bellied up to the bar, ordered a beer and tipped the
woman with a very special dollar bill. The same dollar bill, that just a few
days prior, was dampened and then rolled in Doug's ashes. Only a close group of
people know this story and to my knowledge, it has never been shared on this
level till today.
We poured a little bit of Doug in the Pedernales River,
in hopes that he would travel to the gulf and a little bit of Doug would end up
in the folds of a bikini wearing spring breaker.
We bought a peach tree, Doug's favorite, and poured some
of Doug in their as well. We shot guns into the hole and poured a little beer
and whiskey in for good measure before planting the tree. We did a few other
things with his remains, but nothing more epic than what I shared already. We
still miss Deputy Doug, but we don't have to travel far to think of him.
When I see or hear stories about how families fight over
what they want to do with the deceased or when they bury people or get them
cremated, even if that person never wanted to get cremated or buried in a
certain location, I always think about Doug. As we get older we tend to know
more dead people so the thought crosses my mind more today than before. Doug
had no plan for what would happen to him after he died; most likely because he
died at such an early age. Nobody wanted him and his remains were left to a
group of friends to deal with. Nobody fought over Doug and we all just agreed
that his remains were our responsively and they would be scattered across all
of Texas. No one place to come visit him in peace, but rather letting his
spirit live on everywhere you looked. Knowing what a free spirit, go with the
flow kind of guy he was, I am sure he is tickled by how we dispensed of his
ashes. We would especially be happy to know that some of our actions were
borderline illegal or had shades of bad intentions.
People, especially when they bury family members like
parents and grandparents, try to make the whole thing about them. They bury a
parent in a cemetery closer to them so they don't have to travel any farther
than they need to visit the grave or they think that the last request of the
deceased was stupid and instead, make the decision to do something they deemed
more practical.
I think the final resting place should be determined by
the decreased. If they want their ashes scattered under 2nd base of the little
league field they played on 50 years ago, then it's up to us to see that this
happens. If they want to be buried in a plot next to another family member in a
particular city, we should honor that as well. If my wife passes before me and
wants to be buried at a cemetery near the ocean, I would honor that. Even if my
final resting place is 1000 miles away. Yes, It would be a burden on my kids to
travel so far to see both of us, but if you look at it spiritually, it's not
like people need a shrine to truly remember the people they love.
My family and I have lots of great stories about Doug and
we never needed a stone to jog those memories. We don't need to physically
travel to think about the people we love. We just need to think about them and
smile.
I have 2 brothers and a grandmother buried next to each
other in Blanco County and I miss them every day. They are an hour away and I
pop in from time to time to squat down and pray for them or have a one sided
conversation in my head. I miss them, but I don't feel guilty for not stopping
by as often as I can.
People live on in your heart and the stories you tell.
They say you die twice. Once when you leave this earth and once after the last
person that knows you passes away. Through my stories and blogs, I hope to
extend that second one for as long as I can.
