We took him down by the water like he’d asked us 

Along the shoreline we spread his ashes

The man could never catch a fish but how he loved to try 

His sister and wife had sat and watched him die 

Is it bad that I wonder when he smoked his first cigarette?

Only a nurse – reading about longevity – would 

After his third stroke, he started to forget 

A lot more than one should

It’s like the ending was always there

By the time I entered the picture, he could no longer speak intelligibly

He’d often sit in that old plastic lawn chair by the river and slap his belly

The sun would burn him 

The fish would spurn him 

But he would marvel as the reel was swirlin’

So we spread him right there, where he loved to be 

My husband pulled his uncle right out of the pretty black box 

My mother-in-law passed around the shot-sized party cups 

I was a little bit shocked

But held my palm up 

It wasn’t the first time I’d held a dead man 

But ashes, yes 

How many people had held him in his life?

I guessed 

It was like the periodic table was in my hand 

Or vapor 

Nearly weightless – yet a man

The wind blew before I could react

And it was like the atmosphere took him back

He took flight

My husband spread the box’s ashes by the water 

Other family members emptied their cups 

As one guy there said goodbye to a father

The small group of us stood there quietly as the tide rose 

I’m not sure where the spirit goes 

Or whether what we did was illegal 

But something amazing: a massive fish jumped

It suspended in the air as we all stared

I’m sure he was there

The scene was regal

With a heterogenous, aging group along the sea

He was, at last, eternally, where he loved to be