Robin’s Last Wish
“Sir, I’m going to have to have you open the container” the airport security guard said abruptly. Harold stared down intently at the round metal tin clutching it tightly. “Sir?” the guard started, but Harold didn’t let him repeat the command. “It’s my wife” he said through clenched teeth. He gripped the receptacle tighter never lifting his gaze; tears began to well up in his eyes. An older security guard stepped up, “Its okay” he said gently “he can go through.” I was thankful for the intervention. Harold had just gone through the hellish experience of losing his wife, Robin, and the last thing he needed was some arrogant security guard prying off the lid of the container that held her remains.
My relationship to Harold and Robin was a little complicated. My husband, Todd had been raised by Robin from the age of 10 when his dad married her. 12 years later, his dad died leaving Robin a young widow at the age of 42. Four years after that Robin met Harold through an online dating service and she and the millionaire fell deeply in love. Once they were married, Todd began to fill the role of the son Harold never had.
Robin had only a brief relationship with her cancer, thankfully. At the age of 56, after having had endured a colostomy that “ended” her quality of life and 3 months of horrific pain, Robin died. Now Todd and I accompanied Harold and his daughter, Leigh, on a journey to Hawaii to scatter Robin’s ashes in a cove off the shore of her favorite beach.
The weather was beautiful when we arrived to the big island, the air thick with the sweet scent of Plumeria. It was a whirlwind trip, really more a “business” trip. We had but one job to do and the morning after our arrival we set off in little paddle boats, Todd and I in one and Harold and Leigh in the other.
The water mimicked the climate; clear and calm. We paddled slowly out to the middle of the inlet. Leigh had brought a box of dried rose petals to send out with Robin’s ashes. “Stop here,” Harold said quietly when he decided on just the right spot. We stopped and sat silently as the waves rocked our boats, gently bumping them together. Harold opened the container and took out the bag that held what remained of his beloved wife. He began to pour the contents into the clear blue water. After a few minutes he handed the bag to Leigh, then to Todd and finally to me so we could each take our turn to lay Robin to rest. I held the bag for a few moments; I was surprised at how heavy it felt and when I began to pour out the ash, the consistency was not what I expected. It was more like sand than ash like from a fire. As I poured it into the water the ash began to billow out and I couldn’t help thinking it looked so beautiful, like an angel.
Leigh tossed the rose petals into the water. They hovered around the boat as the ash continued to make its descent. We sat in the still water frozen in time. It seemed no one knew quite what to do next. Suddenly the wind gusted up and the roses that once surrounded us started to float out to sea. But the strangest thing was that as the petals floated out, our boats were being gently pushed back in to the shore. It was as if Robin was right there with us, her whispers on the wind; “I am leaving, it’s time to let go.”
