‘I Lo
by CHRIS SOWELL
ve You, Mama’
T WAS A WINDY, CHILLY DAY. The ground was damp
As we walked, I could smell the freshly
I
cut grass; I could smell the soil that had
as we walked along a dirt road that was identified by the been interrupted by the tractor that had
two ruts made by a vehicle; a row of grass was growing
removed the brush and the fallen trees
from the area where those little stained
in between the tire tracks. We had parked by the fence
markers bore my family history.
My grandmother had a fear of being
back at the farmhouse and were walking the quarter mile to an
buried. As a child, her family had gone to
the beach, and there her brothers and sis-
old, almost-forgotten family cemetery.
ters buried her in the sand with only her
The mood was quiet with very little talking. Even though
head sticking out of the sand. It was all
fun until they ran off and left her as a
there were several family members, it was still a limited crowd of
prank. Ever since then she was terrified of
being buried.
only about 20 people. My dad had in his hand a little gray box. Three months before this walk to the
cemetery, my grandmother learned she
had cancer—aggressive colon cancer—
and it quickly took her life. Her requests
were no flowers—only one long-stem rose
would accompany her into the cremato-
ry. Now we were doing our best to carry
out her final request. She had only one
living child, my daddy, but she had
another child who lived to be about six
hours old . . . and his remains were there.
Her parents’ remains were there and
other family members’ too. Her request
was to have her ashes poured out on her
baby’s grave and on her parents’ graves.
My dad, the only logical one to carry
out the request, pried off the top of the
gray box, opened the plastic bag that
held my grandmother’s remains, and
began to scatter her ashes onto the
ground. As we stood there in unblinking
silence, the next thing my dad did will
forever be engraved on my mind and
heart. He took the last few ashes, poured
them into his hand, pressed his lips to
those bitter ashes, and with a clear and
unbroken tone, said, “I love you, Mama,”
and gently cast them onto the ground.
And to that, I say, “I love you, Daddy.”
Happy Father’s Day!
Chris Sowell is the state youth and Christ-
ian education director of the Church of God
in Oklahoma. His father, Jimmy, pastors the
Eufaula, Alabama, Church of God.
26 EVANGEL • JUNE 2009
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