I scattered more of Clint’s ashes this weekend. On Sunday I biked on the Leslie Spit  one year after we last went down there for the butterfly festival. Clint was doing so well with his treatments and felt so energetic that we walked quite a way along the Spit before realizing that it was as far to walk back and by the time we eventually got there, he was exhausted.  We never let Clint’s illness or his treatments get in the way of our lives though. There was one spot in particular (below) that had a great view of Toronto, so I scattered him there overlooking the city that he loved so passionately.

 On Sunday I scattered more of his ashes in another of our favourite places, The Brickworks. This time I had my wonderful friend, Karen with me for moral support (and to mop up my tears)

On Tuesday it will be the 8 months since Clint slipped peacefully away. I miss him every day and although people tell me it will get easier, it hasn’t happened yet. As always, thanks to all my amazing friends for hanging in there with me, I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you either.

Clint loved the water and boats. We often laughed about the sailing lessons we had with our friend Victor many years ago. I’d had enough after a few hours - I had imagined myself sailing, one hand trailing in the warm blue water and a glass of wine in the other. Lake Ontario in May was nothing like that, but Clint and Victor stuck it out for the three days of the course, with much “Ahoy me hearties!” and ending when the instructor accidentally fell out of the boat and they  had to rescue him. All this is in the way of introducing a beautiful poem that I found recently.

Sometime at Eve when the tide is low

I shall slip my moorings and sail away

With no response to a friendly hail

In the silent hush of the twilight pale

When the night stoops down to embrace the day

And the voices call in the water's flow

 Sometime at Eve when the water is low

I shall slip my moorings and sail away.

Through purple shadows

That darkly trail o'er the ebbing tide

And the Unknown Sea,

And a ripple of waters' to tell the tale

Of a lonely voyager sailing away

To mystic isles

Where at anchor lay

The craft of those who had sailed before

O'er the Unknown Sea

To the Unknown Shore
 
A few who watched me sail away

Will miss my craft from the busy bay

Some friendly barques were anchored near

Some loving souls my heart held dear

In silent sorrow will drop a tear

But I shall have peacefully furled my sail

In mooring sheltered from the storm and gale

And greeted friends who had sailed before

O'er the Unknown Sea

To the Unknown Shore

~ Elizabeth Clark Hardy