Setting Jim free

Before Jim passed away, he asked to be cremated and he asked to have his ashes scattered up in Northern Wisconsin, on Forest Lake.

Jim always complained that he didn't get a cake on his birthday as a kid. His birthday is May 28, and it inevitably fell on a Memorial Day weekend, so his family would be out camping. Let's be clear - he got a cake for his birthday. Birthdays are a pretty big deal at the Marventano household, so I seriously cannot imagine that his family ever once blew off his birthday. They probably just celebrated when they got home or something like that. It's not like his mom could whip up a cake in the woods. In any case, he complained about it as an adult. So every year I tried to make a big deal of his birthday. This year was no exception.

I thought that an appropriate time to scatter Jim's ashes would be over Memorial Day weekend so that we could all be together over a long weekend and celebrate Jim's birthday. We got him a birthday cake with a deer on it and sang him Happy Birthday. I cannot believe he's 39. I still remember my brothers freaking out when he turned 25, saying "Oh my God, you're so OLD. You're like a quarter of a century! You're ancient!" I didn't envision his 39th birthday this way, but we do the best we can with what we've got. I still wanted to celebrate Jim.

The Marventanos all drove to my house on Friday and spent the night. Then we all drove up north together on Saturday afternoon. We spent a lovely weekend playing outside, watching movies, reading, eating, and relaxing. The kids were so excited to see their Mimi and Papa, Aunt Judi and Uncle Mark, and of course, her cousins Kirsten and Sean. (Rachel said to me - "I can't wait to see Kirsten. And I already know mom, she's a teenager!")

I was terrified and relieved to scatter the ashes. I have been staring at the urn up on my mantle since September. I've been talking to his ashes and I've been kind of funny about where I'll place the urn. I hate putting the urn on the floor of the car when I have to take it somewhere - I would never ask Jim to ride on the floor of the car. Then again, strapping it in with a seatbelt seems like I'd be taken to a rubber room if anyone ever caught me. I've felt badly about Jim's ashes being trapped in the urn. After all, Jim was an outdoor guy. Having him trapped in a box didn't seem like the right thing to do. (Which is why I also suppose he wanted to be cremated.)

We all got a chance to let some of Jim's ashes go into the lake. We went out on the pontoon boat to an area the he'd previously scuba dived, and decided to start there. It was a very sad event. I suggested that each person could say something if they wanted, or they could just be silent. We all took turns - it was a lot of ashes. I tried hard to think of letting the ashes go as setting him free. He wouldn't have wanted to be kept in a box, but at the same time, releasing those ashes felt like we were letting him go as well. I think part of the fear is that people will forget. He's not here anymore to remind us how spectacular he is. Will other people remember? It seemed as though we were letting go of one more reminder. But in reality, it's not like there's any less of him here now that we've scattered the ashes. He's stronger in my mind because I know he's happy. We've followed his wishes and he's with nature - exactly how he loved to be.

Celebrating Jim is something that I plan to do for the rest of our lives. I want my children to know how wonderful he is. How he lives on in nature and in our hearts. His birthday will forever be a special day. I cannot imagine the mixed emotions his mother went through this year - the awe and gratitude for the gift of a healthy, happy child. Parental pride as a boy develops into a man. Mourning the loss of a life ended too soon. Remembering your child's birth day is such a treasure - remembering the first moment you heard the cries, the first time you get to hold them, the overwhelming sense of thankfulness and happiness.

Jim left this world knowing that he is deeply loved. Perhaps that's the best birthday gift any of us could ever ask for. Scattering his ashes and celebrating the extraordinary man he is, with his family and mine, seems to be the best thing we could do on such a day. Happy 39th birthday, Jim. You'll live on in our hearts forever. May peace and grace be yours as you reconnect with nature and grant us the freedom to set your spirit free.