Bodega Bay

I made a solitary pilgrimage to Bodega Bay yesterday, where my parents lived for some years before my father died and my mother moved to Maine to be near my sister’s family. Mum and I had spread some of dad’s ashes over the cliffs on Bodega Head; she walked on the Head most days while she lived there, communing with the ravens and oystercatchers. I wanted to add some of her ashes to the mix, 26 years later.

I hadn’t thought about the impact that Veterans’ Day would have on the bustle of this little seaport, but I should have. There were people and cars everywhere. I made my way to the spot where we had spread Dad’s ashes but got overcome with vertigo and crouched down in the iceplant by the cliff edge, unable to move a step closer. In the end I put her ashes in the vegetation; I apologized to her for being scared. It wouldn’t help anyone, though, if I lost my footing and fell stupidly…

There was no way I was going to find somewhere to eat with the gathering throngs so I went out on the balcony at the Tides inn to do a sketch or two… A loon was fishing near the dock. Loons had been calling across the Bay when we set her ashes down in Maine. It closed the circle a bit.

There is still a mum-shaped hole in my being, which I imagine will never really go away. I’m so glad we got closer in the last 20 years, and especially in the last five…