Just Passing Through

When I passed away last year,
   there was a terrible fuss.

One family contingent insisted on traditional
   burial while the other wanted cremation.

Cremation finally won out (as it’s clean
   and simple and was my wish).

Then the fighting began anew over
   where what was left of me should reside.

One wanted to keep me on his mantel where
   he could continue to keep an eye on me.

Another wanted to throw me in the wide
   blue lake to keep my grandpa company.

Days of battling tore at my heartstrings
   until my beautiful, sweet children

snuck out my ashes and cast me
   to the wind (they knew I’d like it).

Parts of me flew away, picked up by the
   jet stream, world traveling still,

but the bulk of me plopped on the ground
   at the poor children’s feet.

They hadn’t the heart to move me,
   so I’ve settled in here.

The rain has washed me deeply into
   the soil now and I’m comfortable,

so should you drop by, just look for me
   where the jonquils grow thick.