Page 54 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
Even though I haven’t written, I’ve still been reading your journals these last four weeks and yet, I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of your “chocolate ice cream” pal or what happened with my father and Alexander. I still have a significant stack left at the bottom of the box, so I will get there eventually, but it’ll likely have to wait till I’m back home.
I leave in less than a week to fly back to Virginia and I thought I’d be dreading it, but I’m starting to look forward to going back. I mostly miss the girls like crazy and can’t wait to see them, but also L and I have been doing so great that I’m not really worried that my leaving will be the end of us. We’ve only talked a little about what it'll be like once I move home, but we’re planning to stay together, that’s the bottom line.
L is actually in Sonoma right now for work, but I’ll see him in a couple days. He didn’t want to leave me, but I felt like this was a good test for the future. To see how we do when we’re apart, and so far, I miss him like crazy and all the feelings I have for him are just as strong. I think we can do this, truly.
I can pretty much say these last weeks have been the happiest of my life, and ending it with spreading your ashes feels really good. There’s still a lot I don't know about your life, but I do feel better knowing you had some happiness, friends, and that you were content. Leaving you at Spearhead just feels like the right thing to do. Hopefully you’re at peace, Georgia. Love you.
-Britain
There’s a gentle knock at the front door.Alexander. “Hey, stranger,” I say in greeting as I open the door. Most people might mean that greeting as a joke, but mine is more truth than anything. Alexander’s changed so much over the last decade. His eyes are dead, and every word seems like a struggle.Maybe it is?
“Hey, sis.” I’d reach to hug him, but he’s carrying the urn with Georgia inside, so I just usher him into the house, closing the door behind us. He lets out a low whistle and says, “This is some rental.” I chuckle a little, but don’t say anything more. My brother and I aren’t close anymore, I can’t really tell him that this isn’t my rental. That I’m just staying with some older man who’s great in bed, and I moved in with him after two dates.Awkward.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Or are you hungry?” I ask, trying to be hospitable. I want to talk to him, get close again, but he’s got a wall up. His entire personality is disinterested.
“Nah, I’m okay. I sort of just want to get this done with, you know?” He asks me, holding up the urn.
“Definitely, I understand. Let’s um, take her out to the dock.” The walk from the house to the dock only takes a couple minutes, through the deck and then down a small hill of stone steps to get there. We both walk all the way out to the furthest point and just stand there. I don’t really know what to do next, quite honestly. I’ve never spread anyone’s ashes before.
“Should we say a couple words? Or…?” I trail off, hoping Alex will pick it up or make a suggestion. He just keeps standing there, though, looking out at the lake, not at me and definitely not at the urn.
“I don’t know, Britain. That’s not really my style.”Right.
“Okay, I guess maybe just say some things in your head and then we can sprinkle her ashes into the water?”
“Sure,” is all he says, but he hands me Georgia’s urn, like he’s already disassociated from her entirely and this is the last chore he’ll ever have to do for her. So I hold my mother’s ashes and I think. The only thing that comes to mind ispeace.
Georgia, I hope you found peace after this life. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy. ‘Chocolate ice cream’ happy. And I hope you know I do love you, even though I left. Me leaving, it had everything to do with me and my own problems, not you.
Enjoy the water, Georgia. Enjoy the sunshine, and I’ll try to do the same, okay?
I look over at Alexander, and he hasn’t moved at all, still staring at the lake. Hands held behind his back, his posture prone and stiff. A true soldier, through and through.
“Ready?” He doesn’t respond with an answer, just nods his head as I unscrew the lid off the urn. Inside, is a ziplock bag filled with gray dust. I think of Georgia’s box of notebooks and memories and think about her entire life reduced to one ziplock bag of dust and one box of effects. An entire life boiled down tothis. A shudder runs through me at the thought. If I were to go right now, I’d be even less. My kids would be left with a ziplock baggy, money, and not much else. A tear escapes, running off my cheek.
I set the urn on the dock, removing the bag and holding it up between me and Alex. Do we just stick our hand in there and sprinkle bits at a time each? Or do we dump the whole bag out at once and we’re done? I’d probably stand there for eternity, but luckily Alex steps up. He lifts the bag from my hand, pulling out a small bit of dust and rubbing it together between his fingertips. Eventually the dust falls, getting caught in the breeze and flying away. After that, he takes the bag and gently sprinkles her ashes into the water. Little bits at a time. Like seasoning a soup with salt.
He passes the bag back to me and I mimic what he’s just done, except I don’t touch her ashes at all. I’m almost to the end of the bag when Alex stops me.
“Do you think she was happy, Britain?” I’m surprised by his question.
“Well…I think she had happy moments. Times when she experienced happiness. But overall, no, I don’t think she was.” At this moment, I suddenly feel a profound connection with who Georgia was. A woman, a mother, who made choices in life and tried her best, but a happy existence eluded her. It was not in the cards for her,for us.
Alexander nods in agreement. He’s just like her, and like me, too.Haunted.
I go to finish emptying the bag, sending out a silent prayer as the last specs fall to the water.Goodbye, mom. The tears I’ve been trying to hold back break through and I let them fall in silence. I turn to Alexander and see he’s doing the same. I guess he’s not completely dead in there after all.
I wipe the tears away and try again, “Have a drink with me, to Georgia?” He nods in acceptance and I make my way back to the house, slipping the ziplock back into the urn. I’m about to throw it away in the kitchen trash when Alexander stops me.
“I’ll take that back home.” He takes the urn from me, setting it and his keys on the table. Maybe he’s more sentimental than I thought. I grab a couple glasses and pour a couple inches of bourbon into each, handing one over.
We clink our glasses together and say in unison, “To Georgia.” Except I say, “to Georgia,” and Alex says, “rest, Georgia.”Interesting.
“Will you stay in town very long?” I’m sure it was a pain to get here. It’d be worth it to stick around a bit, but Alexander is a mover. He doesn’t like to be stationary for long. He’s still living the army life, even though he’s retired.
“Not sure. The house needs some work. I’m, uh, thinking about selling it.” I wait for the sting to come, from the news of him selling our childhood home, but it doesn’t. I guess it was mostly just my childhood home, and his ‘sometimes home’ when Ray would let him visit. “I was going to run it by you first, so that’s what I’m doing.” Of course.
“I don’t have a problem with it. It’s yours to do what you want with it. Are you moving back to D.C. then?”
