Tampa Bay Scattering of Ashes

                           

                          A PLANE A DAY OVER TAMPA BAY

My Dad, Bobby, was a wild man in his youth. He lived hard and died young... a hard drinking, gambling smoker (total body abuse). There is no doubt that his lifestyle contributed to his untimely demise from a ruptured abdominal aneurysm.

Okay, so he wasn't the perfect father, either, but we loved him. He had a great sense of humor, which was his most valuable legacy to us, his six kids. Life wasn't always peachy in such a crowded household, but we always managed to find the humor in things and laugh together.

Bobby was not a religious man. He would have hated a solemn church funeral with organ music and smelly flowers. So we didn't give him one. Instead, we decided on an informal memorial service on a deck boat in Tampa Bay, and scattered his ashes in the aqua-blue waters of the sea.

Let me explain why this final ceremony was so fitting for him. During World War II, my Dad trained as a bomber pilot at MacDill Air Force base near Tampa, Florida.

They flew B-26 bombers, and those damn planes were apparently pigs! They just weren't safely designed, and often crashed into the Bay. Many promising young pilots were lost without ever making it overseas. Hence a phrase was born among the pilots: "A plane a day over Tampa Bay".

This is why we found ourselves one hot June day in 2000 dumping Dad's ashes overboard... to join his Air Force comrades lost decades earlier in Tampa Bay. How fitting! We just know he loved it!

The entire day of the ceremony, however, was a comedy of errors. Also in keeping with Dad's legacy.

We all gathered at Mom's house the day of the "boat service", all dressed up in somber dark clothes. It was a sad day for us all. My Dad's ashes had been delivered by the cremation society in a cardboard box. My sister and I went out on the patio to sneak a peak at Dad's ashes. It just looked like black grainy powder, sealed in a plastic bag. We shed a few tears over it.

We had rented a deck boat, and 12 of us crowded onto it for a short trip into the middle of the Bay. What we did was technically illegal, as you are supposed to go 3 miles from shore before scattering cremains. Law breakers! (Dad would have loved that). One of his sons lost his wristwatch overboard (we decided that Bobby wanted it).

I guess you had to be there, and understand our family, but we laughed often and found humor in the whole situation. The oldest son, Roy, recited the 23rd psalm, stating he "didn't think Dad would mind".

Well, the finale... my two sisters and I opened the box of ashes, held it over the side, and started gently pouring them onto the water. It was too heavy! It wasn't easy! I didn't think it would ever end! We were all quite amazed at the volume of ashes a human being could create. Finally, it was done. We each dropped a rose into the water and shed some tears.

Time to go back... and the boat wouldn't start! (A typical Bobby scenario from our childhood). We also got "sorta lost" trying to find our way back (also a typical Bobby adventure).

Our personal "burial at sea" was a fitting goodbye to a fun-loving man. Rest in peace, Dad, we love you and miss you!
                 
~Jeanie