Sunsets on Samsø

Easter was a strange time. Just over six months since my mum died and we'd had the cremation ceremony with friends and family, we buried her ashes...

The Saturday that begun the two weeks break we buried half mum's ashes with my dad in the local churchyard. The ceremony was simple, and consisted of only family along with a couple of other friends who'd missed the cremation - one of whom had come over from Denmark with mum, and who'd trained as a nurse with her when she was in her twenties. A few words were said by the village vicar, and then we lowered the ashes, threw a handful of dirt, and filled in the hole ourselves. It wasn't as hard this time as the first time, but I have to say I felt another tie snap and mourned a little more.



Mum's elderly brothers couldn't make it from Denmark nor France for the burials, and we wanted the link with mum's birthplace to stay strong, so we had decided some time back to take her ashes back to the Island where she was born and scatter them with her brothers present. But, when we arrived there, my uncle couldn't bear the thought that folks would walk over her ashes, so we agreed to bury the rest of her remains in the churchyard she was married to dad in next to her parents.


Apart from having to negotiate with the local priest in Danish (luckily my younger sister had lived in Denmark for a year when she was in her thirties, so was able to guide us through this very tricky discussion :-) ) and apart from needing to purchase an urn from a local urn maker, it turned out to be a straight forward process. Nearly two weeks after burying half of mum's ashes at home, we buried the other half in the other place her heart was...on the island of Samsø, Denmark.

Funny, it wasn't what we'd envisaged. We knew the Danish there had lovely little gardens around each grave, where some had placed little seats, others flowers or trees, others yet had places some kind of memorial. Most 'headstones' were simple stones with 'mor' (mum) or 'far' (dad) painted on or carved. Some just said a name, such as 'Jens' or 'Signe'...no surname for it is unecessary in a plot that belongs to a family. Their christian names are who they were known as so only they are necessary in death. Some chose to be buried in the 'unmarked' part of the graveyard...wanting no lasting memorial for themselves. There was no cost for burying mum there as she'd retained her Danish nationality.


The ceremony was simply to lower the urn in the flower rimmed hole (they'd placed a perfect sized wreath to cover the hole, but to allow the urn to be passed into it...very pretty. That was it. No words. Just a general 'goodbye'.


Well, it was strange having three funerals for mum...and we joked that only she could have so many ceremonies for her, but we were all glad that we had done this last one...it was special to share it with her brother and the family present over there. It gave us and them a place to return to if ever we wanted to 'visit' mum, for we had wondered if we'd ever go back if there was no reason to go (being easier to remain on the mainland with her extended family in the lovely village by the sea where they lived!)


And, thankfully, that brings a closure to mum's life so we are able to move forward without her...