Where do all the secrets live? They travel in the air
I wasn't meant to be posting about Dad for my next post, but I thought I should mention that today, Liz and I drove up to North Wales to meet with the rest of my family, scaling the peak of Moel Famau, between Mold and Wrexham, to scatter Dad's ashes as per his last wishes.
We'd organised to leave Solihull at 8:30 AM and more or less managed this to schedule, arriving in Mold, Clywd, at my Aunty Pat's house by around 10:15. However, while we expected to leave for the mountain shortly after, we spent the next 3 hours or so sitting down and just shooting the breeze - several members of our walking party were alternately in bed or at work. We passed the time playing with my aunt and uncle's beautiful golden retrievers and doting on my nephew Alfie; finally everyone got together at about 1:30 or 1:45. We set off for the walk at about 2 pm and I bid my wife goodbye for the duration of the trip. She stayed in the car park due to her nasty chest infection.
I too currently have a cold and a cough - though not to the extent of Liz - and so had already privately assumed that I would not make it to the peak of the mountain. My Mum is afraid of heights, and so I thought it likely that I would leave the trail and go back the way we came once my Mum decided she could not go any higher. As it happened, though, I felt more or less OK on the walk - not coughing once until my return to the car park, and Mum did well too. I walked her up the mountain, guarding her from the mountain-edge that she feared, and so was ascending slower than the rest of the group as a result. After a little while we turned a corner and saw the peak, with Jubilee Tower on the very crest. It seemed easier going from that point, once we could see where we were heading and how far we had to go.
We were a huge group - me, my sister and brother, Mum, my Uncle Geraint, my Aunty and Uncle David and Julie, their two dogs Millie and Ollie, my cousin Rebecca, her husband Darren, their two children Miller and Maddox, my cousin Hollie, and my cousin Rachel's husband, Andy, along with their daughter, Taya. Aunty Pat, Rachel, and my nephew Alfie all stayed at the car park with Liz for one reason or another.
As we neared the end of the walk, it got steeper, but Mum was a real trooper and managed the ascent well. Finally we reached Jubilee Tower, where as expected it was rather windy. From the cliff edge we could see Liverpool in the near distance - one can see Blackpool and the Isle of Man, if you know where to look and it's a clear day. We laid some flowers at the Ordinance Survey marker, took a photo of the whole group (with Mum at the forefront, eager to prove to her sisters that she actually made it up to the top), and then Lucy, my sister, scattered Dad's ashes over the Welsh hills and valleys of his birth, and there was a small silence.
Wind direction was towards Liverpool, which I'm not sure Dad would have been thrilled with. *grin*
Before we started on the return trip, Lucy, Stuart and I sprinted up the steep steps to the tower - originally incorporating an egyptian art-deco style obelisk until a storm destroyed it - and spent a minute or so at the windyest of windys, taking in the sights. My two uncles escorted my Mum down the return trip, while I walked alongside Lucy at a good pace, talking about her current boyfriend, about New York, about Dad, and about dealing with things. She shares my sense of unreality about the whole situation at times. I mused about my occasional anger with religion now - that some are able to believe that one day (a day, no doubt, far away, but defined nevertheless) they will be reunited with those they have loved and lost, but that as an atheist, that belief is not open to me.
We made it down the mountain and I presented my lovely ill wife with a sprig of heather from near the top. We said goodbye to everyone and drove straight home. We're both tired now, but it's been a worthwhile day overall in many ways.
We'd organised to leave Solihull at 8:30 AM and more or less managed this to schedule, arriving in Mold, Clywd, at my Aunty Pat's house by around 10:15. However, while we expected to leave for the mountain shortly after, we spent the next 3 hours or so sitting down and just shooting the breeze - several members of our walking party were alternately in bed or at work. We passed the time playing with my aunt and uncle's beautiful golden retrievers and doting on my nephew Alfie; finally everyone got together at about 1:30 or 1:45. We set off for the walk at about 2 pm and I bid my wife goodbye for the duration of the trip. She stayed in the car park due to her nasty chest infection.
I too currently have a cold and a cough - though not to the extent of Liz - and so had already privately assumed that I would not make it to the peak of the mountain. My Mum is afraid of heights, and so I thought it likely that I would leave the trail and go back the way we came once my Mum decided she could not go any higher. As it happened, though, I felt more or less OK on the walk - not coughing once until my return to the car park, and Mum did well too. I walked her up the mountain, guarding her from the mountain-edge that she feared, and so was ascending slower than the rest of the group as a result. After a little while we turned a corner and saw the peak, with Jubilee Tower on the very crest. It seemed easier going from that point, once we could see where we were heading and how far we had to go.
We were a huge group - me, my sister and brother, Mum, my Uncle Geraint, my Aunty and Uncle David and Julie, their two dogs Millie and Ollie, my cousin Rebecca, her husband Darren, their two children Miller and Maddox, my cousin Hollie, and my cousin Rachel's husband, Andy, along with their daughter, Taya. Aunty Pat, Rachel, and my nephew Alfie all stayed at the car park with Liz for one reason or another.
As we neared the end of the walk, it got steeper, but Mum was a real trooper and managed the ascent well. Finally we reached Jubilee Tower, where as expected it was rather windy. From the cliff edge we could see Liverpool in the near distance - one can see Blackpool and the Isle of Man, if you know where to look and it's a clear day. We laid some flowers at the Ordinance Survey marker, took a photo of the whole group (with Mum at the forefront, eager to prove to her sisters that she actually made it up to the top), and then Lucy, my sister, scattered Dad's ashes over the Welsh hills and valleys of his birth, and there was a small silence.
Wind direction was towards Liverpool, which I'm not sure Dad would have been thrilled with. *grin*
Before we started on the return trip, Lucy, Stuart and I sprinted up the steep steps to the tower - originally incorporating an egyptian art-deco style obelisk until a storm destroyed it - and spent a minute or so at the windyest of windys, taking in the sights. My two uncles escorted my Mum down the return trip, while I walked alongside Lucy at a good pace, talking about her current boyfriend, about New York, about Dad, and about dealing with things. She shares my sense of unreality about the whole situation at times. I mused about my occasional anger with religion now - that some are able to believe that one day (a day, no doubt, far away, but defined nevertheless) they will be reunited with those they have loved and lost, but that as an atheist, that belief is not open to me.
We made it down the mountain and I presented my lovely ill wife with a sprig of heather from near the top. We said goodbye to everyone and drove straight home. We're both tired now, but it's been a worthwhile day overall in many ways.