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Laid my parents to rest in the Gulf of Mexico today

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IMG_4115.jpeg

Mom was born in NOLA, along the Mississippi. She grew up along the coast.

Dad was born near the banks of the Rio Grande. The Texas coast was his retreat. He’d fish for hours, in contemplation. He shared that gift with me.

Around 20 years ago, when they had returned to Houston and re-settled there, they decided to look for a beach house. They looked in Galveston (I had grown up with Saturday trips down to east beach, and visits with friends who had modest places on the west end), but it was pricey, and they were discouraged. One weekend, I went down and had them join me on a trip to Surfside Beach, where I’d been fishing and duck hunting recently. They loved it. Soon after, they found and bought a house on Bluewater Highway, 3rd row from the beach. They had it for 10 years. They spent a lot of time there, just the two of them. But also with their grandkids, who grew up with the place. And they were generous with it - countless friends and such would use it for a week with just a handoff of the keys.

MaybeACoordinator would stop in some times. I recall one afternoon, as we sat in folding chairs on the beach, he was talking about Follet’s island in general and said “you know, I just think of the place as a Brisket family place.”

My parents wanted to rest together. My dad missed my mom so much.

We went offshore about 8.5 miles today. The wind picked up overnight, it was a bit bouncy, and not the easiest ride. And, when we got to the place, it all washed over me. It was hard getting the words out. We all had something to say. My wife - gifted as she is - had even put together a simple liturgy, which she delivered from the back of the boat as it swayed side to side. My parents’ ashes (in a biodegradable envelope meant for such use) floated for a moment, then sank to return to the sea.

These were my words. I don’t think they are enough. Nothing ever will be. But they poured into and out of me one night, and there they were.


The Gulf drinks earth-rich water

Not from the blue-crystal rivers of poems

But brown channels of life and grit and truth

Mississippi

Bravo

Brazos

Colorado.

 

Meandering tracing of life lived in a place

The paths and barriers that make us

That carry us to what we will be

Emptying in a jumble of everything we were, into the sea.

 

Earth has a heart

The sea’s curling waves pushed by each beat

Whooshing in our ears as the first sound of our mother 

A rhythm from the time before time

A promise that time does not end.

 

She bears love, and life, and tempest-blown fury

Our relationship status is “complicated”

But always binding

Salt lives in both waves and tears for a reason.

 

Teeming with memories both fresh and fading

A bowed rod at sunrise, shining speckled sides glinting at the end

Joy and innocence in the sandy playground at water’s edge

Walks on her winter shore, side-by-side

Combing for treasures

While treasure is already in hand.

 

She is womb and grave

Carrying souls to shore, where they walk for a time

On sand, firm with the sea

And soft from the wind

Until the moon calls them to ride the falling tide back home.

 

A lull.  Another set.

Life-flecked foam left on the beach, already fading

Erased.  Re-created.

Her waves, God’s infinite loop

They are in them

Together

They always will be.


Last night, we walked along the beach. On the sea-firm sand, and its wind-blown softness.

IMG_4100.jpeg

Today was harder than I thought it would be.

They belong to the sea now.

They belong to God.

As do we all.

beautiful. i want my ashes shared with the California pacific beaches around sunset and the redfish waters of the Texas bays. it's hard to explain why the Texas coast is magical because it's really not on paper, but in the hearts of those who grew up with it and explored it's endless ins and outs, the Texas coast is full of the grand eternal. I'm glad you got to do that. has some Guy Clark, "Randall Knife" similarities too.

Edited by scramblyn

3 minutes ago, scramblyn said:

beautiful. i want my ashes shared with the California pacific beaches around sunset and the redfish waters of the Texas bays. it's hard to explain why the Texas coast is magical because it's really not on paper, but in the hearts of those who grew up with it and explored it's endless ins and outs, the Texas coast is full of the grand eternal. I'm glad you got to do that. has some Guy Clark, "Randall Knife" similarities too.

Familiar with both the pacific and the gulf. There’s an ease about being by the gulf. Water is warm, big sandbar, island life

Just now, Im_smarter_then_you said:

Familiar with both the pacific and the gulf. There’s an ease about being by the gulf. Water is warm, big sandbar, island life

well and the fishing. shallow waters with the marshes and wetlands are easy to get lost in and there can be no one for many miles if you find the right places. pacific is easy to get lost in too, but it's lost in the sunset and the expansive never ending water headed west. brisket's dad was well on to something choosing the Texas coast.

  • Author

And if you were wondering, while it was a bit rough (and the boy does NOT do well in heavy seas of any sort, so he needed to head back in after a short time out there), we DID fish for just a bit afterwards.

69958fcc-5b58-4b2a-a6cd-5e113635afaf.jpeg

My folks actually would have loved that.

By all accounts, you were a good son to your folks, Brisket.

I grew up most of my childhood on the water - the Potomac River, VA, the New River, NC, the Pacific in Hawaii. It’s always been a spiritual setting for me. I hope you found some piece and comfort out on that water.

Your parents would be proud!! You’re a solid dude and mom and dad brisket had to be great people to raise you this way. What a beautiful post and thanks for sharing. As a poor Dallas kid I think I saw the ocean 3 times before joining the navy, I always loved it and wanted to be one of those people just out “there” glad they made that happen for them

1 hour ago, Brisketexan said:

IMG_4115.jpeg

Mom was born in NOLA, along the Mississippi. She grew up along the coast.

Dad was born near the banks of the Rio Grande. The Texas coast was his retreat. He’d fish for hours, in contemplation. He shared that gift with me.

Around 20 years ago, when they had returned to Houston and re-settled there, they decided to look for a beach house. They looked in Galveston (I had grown up with Saturday trips down to east beach, and visits with friends who had modest places on the west end), but it was pricey, and they were discouraged. One weekend, I went down and had them join me on a trip to Surfside Beach, where I’d been fishing and duck hunting recently. They loved it. Soon after, they found and bought a house on Bluewater Highway, 3rd row from the beach. They had it for 10 years. They spent a lot of time there, just the two of them. But also with their grandkids, who grew up with the place. And they were generous with it - countless friends and such would use it for a week with just a handoff of the keys.

MaybeACoordinator would stop in some times. I recall one afternoon, as we sat in folding chairs on the beach, he was talking about Follet’s island in general and said “you know, I just think of the place as a Brisket family place.”

My parents wanted to rest together. My dad missed my mom so much.

We went offshore about 8.5 miles today. The wind picked up overnight, it was a bit bouncy, and not the easiest ride. And, when we got to the place, it all washed over me. It was hard getting the words out. We all had something to say. My wife - gifted as she is - had even put together a simple liturgy, which she delivered from the back of the boat as it swayed side to side. My parents’ ashes (in a biodegradable envelope meant for such use) floated for a moment, then sank to return to the sea.

These were my words. I don’t think they are enough. Nothing ever will be. But they poured into and out of me one night, and there they were.


The Gulf drinks earth-rich water

Not from the blue-crystal rivers of poems

But brown channels of life and grit and truth

Mississippi

Bravo

Brazos

Colorado.

 

Meandering tracing of life lived in a place

The paths and barriers that make us

That carry us to what we will be

Emptying in a jumble of everything we were, into the sea.

 

Earth has a heart

The sea’s curling waves pushed by each beat

Whooshing in our ears as the first sound of our mother 

A rhythm from the time before time

A promise that time does not end.

 

She bears love, and life, and tempest-blown fury

Our relationship status is “complicated”

But always binding

Salt lives in both waves and tears for a reason.

 

Teeming with memories both fresh and fading

A bowed rod at sunrise, shining speckled sides glinting at the end

Joy and innocence in the sandy playground at water’s edge

Walks on her winter shore, side-by-side

Combing for treasures

While treasure is already in hand.

 

She is womb and grave

Carrying souls to shore, where they walk for a time

On sand, firm with the sea

And soft from the wind

Until the moon calls them to ride the falling tide back home.

 

A lull.  Another set.

Life-flecked foam left on the beach, already fading

Erased.  Re-created.

Her waves, God’s infinite loop

They are in them

Together

They always will be.


Last night, we walked along the beach. On the sea-firm sand, and its wind-blown softness.

IMG_4100.jpeg

Today was harder than I thought it would be.

They belong to the sea now.

They belong to God.

As do we all.

Love you Senor.

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