So, we went to The Cliffs of Moher. This place was amazingly beautiful, expansive, and crowded--but luckily it was so expansive, wet, and cold that we were able to hike along the cliff and find some solitude.
This location was factored in for more than just its beauty. After my brother died I decided that I was going to take a small thimble size portion of his ashes with me to amazing locations and scatter them until I had scattered all the ashes I have--which isn't very much to begin with--hence, the thimble size portion.
Here is a shot of me being cool in our rental. This was what the coast was like leading up to the cliffs. We stopped several times to check out the landscape. We called this area Dragonstone.
When we got to the cliffs we hiked a ways, I didn't want anyone to bother us, PLUS, I didn't know if I would get in trouble, PLUS, I didn't really know what to do or say.
Along the way I thought up some real deep words to say about scattering through the fog and resting deep below, returned to our ancestors, blah blah--I said it, and meant it all--but it was for me and my brother. It was a moving moment, for a moment. The fog rolled in and enveloped Lydia and I. Once it cleared, the fear of death was upon me when I could see how dead I would be if I slipped.
I miss my brother. I can't stop missing him. These scattering ceremonies are a cheap substitution or his company. I can't fill the hole inside.
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