She feels numb as she travels the road and begins to question why she came. Her eyes fix upon the form of the Twelve Apostles before her. To her right lies the calm of earth; to her left is a sea of confusion. Wilted floral arrangements by the side of the road where she parks acknowledge a recent event that part of her still denies. The scent of rotting lilies wafts through the window. The stench reaffirms why she is there.
She pulls her gaze from the rocks below, opens the car door and walks around to stare down at the dying flowers. The day is drenched in sunshine yet she is so consumed by misery; this scene beside her thwarts any previous happiness.
A small crucifix rises through the decaying lilies. Upon it, someone has etched her son’s name. Despite the distance that separated them over the years, it remains surreal, to come here and acknowledge his passing. She opens the car door and leans toward the passenger foot well to retrieve a ceramic urn. She steps from the car and with eyes clenched tight against a rising wind, she unscrews the lid and releases her only child's ashes.
His remains fly about in the sky and then head for the ocean. There is something deeply spiritual in the way Mother Nature carries him away, and the sea calms as if welcoming him home. She carries the emptied urn back to the car, gets in and drives. There are no last minute glances, no lingering looks in the rear vision mirror. It is time to move forward.