With the help of Be Ceremonial, Lisa Hemingway, the Director of Creativity at iilo Creative Alliance, designed a yearly ceremony to acknowledge her dad’s death anniversary after he died from cancer.
My dad had recently turned 65 when he passed away in October of 2016 after a long battle with cancer. In the aftermath of his death, there was some unexpected drama surrounding his passing that meant we never got to spread his cremated remains into nature, as he had wanted.
That unfinished goodbye weighed on all of us. I wanted to reframe the anniversary of his death ~ to create a ritual that could shift our memories and bring us together, rather than leaving us sitting in what felt unresolved.
Each year in mid-October, we plan the ceremony together. The date always fluctuates, much like Thanksgiving. Family who can attend in person will, and for those who don’t live nearby, they often do this ceremony on their own wherever they are.
In the days leading up, we all privately write letters to my dad. We catch him up on our lives, or just share whatever feels top of mind. The kids often do drawings ~ my youngest never got to meet him and doesn’t write confidently yet ~ and sometimes it’s just a single note, and sometimes it’s many.
We bring a portable speaker and play the Beatles, one of his favourite bands, as we gather together in a small circle. We make a small fire, usually in a pie plate or metal bucket, and we hug and give each other time as we choose to share ~ or not ~ what we wrote to dad.
Then, one by one, we put our notes in the fire and watch them burn into ashes. Depending on the weather, this process sometimes goes quickly.
Once everyone has had their note burned, the kids make a little boat out of leaves, wood, and anything they can find. We place the ashes into the boat and carry it to the ocean, watching it float away or sink.
What This Ceremony Gave Us
The first ceremony was so beautiful and healing, and we have done it every year since.
The fire has been the most powerful part. Getting to make our own “ashes” offered us closure, especially in those first and second years when it was still hurtful that we couldn’t release his remains into nature as he’d wanted. It feels like each year we’re letting that go a little more and connecting together, rain or shine.
We’re lucky to still have my 101-year-old Grandma participate in this, and it feels like each year we mourn something different together and reflect on how dad lives on in all of us.
This ceremony has strengthened us as a family. We release some emotions, feel lighter after, and each year it helps us come together and remember him.
