• Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

Tammy Lenski

Conflict resolution for business, team, and personal relationships

  • Hello
  • Books
  • Courses
  • Archives
  • Subscribe
  • Contact

The fine line

7 April 2015 by Tammy Lenski

ivy

“What’s Dad doing?” said my sister, a note of concern in her voice.

The other three of us turned to see our father making his way through the back yard. He was heading to the corner of the garden that served as our little pet cemetery. He had a shovel over his shoulder.

And in his hand was the container holding our mother’s ashes.

My brother said, “He’s not about to do what I think he’s about to do, is he?”

My two older sisters, my brother and I were sitting on our parents’ bed, working our way through my mother’s jewelry box. She had used a velvet-lined flatware chest that at some point had held the sterling silverware. It would more rightly have been called a memory box, since it held much more than jewelry: Snapshots, thimbles, pretty buttons, keys to who knows where.

“Remember this?” one of us would ask, holding up an item. Keepsake by keepsake and story by story, we worked our way through Mom’s life. And our own.

My mother had died during an asthma attack. I was 25 at the time, the baby of the family. We were shattered. In the days and weeks following her death, my father seemed to be unraveling.

My sister said out loud what we were all thinking: “Is Dad about to bury Mom with dead animals?”

We all looked at each other. For a moment, grief was replaced by incredulity.

Then my oldest sister said in a whisper, “Has anyone else read Stephen King’s Pet Sematary?”

Instantly, all four of us began to howl with laughter. “Watch out tonight when Mom comes knocking on the door!” I cried, mimicking a zombie.

We fell back on the bed in hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time.

Oblivious to the bedlam at the window above him, my father went about his business, digging a small hole, then placing the canister of mom’s ashes in it. By hand he put soil back in the hole, then gently tamped the ground.

Later, when we’d recovered ourselves a bit, we asked our father why he’d buried Mom in the pet cemetery. We left out the “without asking us first” part of the question for now.

“She loved our animals so much,” he said simply. “I don’t think there’s anywhere she’d rather be.”

Why am I telling you this?

Every year as I mark the anniversary of my mother’s death, I think of this moment. I think about how scant is the line between fighting and laughing, outrage and forbearance, rigid judgment and flexibility born of love. I think of how easy it is to step on one side of the line or the other just because of whatever happened a few moments before.

If the moments just beforehand had been different, I think we could just have easily started a fight that afternoon. If we’d been tense about something instead of telling funny stories and sharing happy memories, our reaction could have swung in another direction. Such is the human condition.

We got lucky that afternoon and so I have a funny memory to recall each year in early April, my mother, father, and brother now all gone on.

Maybe you didn’t get so lucky the last time you straddled that fine line. Maybe I won’t be lucky next time I do. Maybe a black mood will change how I shift my weight. Maybe exhaustion will make me short-tempered.

If it does, I hope I will have the presence of mind to recall how fine the line is. I hope I’ll have the strength of character to request a do-over. It is so much better to have good memories to look back on, even if they didn’t start out in that direction. The trajectory we start on doesn’t have to be the trajectory we continue on (Click to tweet this).

After Dad remarried and put the house on the market, we went out to the pet cemetery and dug up that canister of Mom’s ashes. My sister and I took some of them back to the Firth of Forth, home of generations. The remaining ashes found their final place of rest in the upstate New York family plot as bagpipe music sounded Amazing Grace.

In spirit, though, I think Mom really is back with the pets.

  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)

Filed Under: Conflict resolution skills and strategies

Footer

Disagree better

Get The Disagree Better Guide + free road-tested conflict resolution tools delivered to your inbox monthly

Uncopyright   ·   Site policies   ·   Search

Forgive the intrusion...
We use cookies to improve your browsing experience.
We like to eat them, too. Read the policy here.
I ACCEPT
Privacy & Cookies Policy

Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary
Always Enabled

Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.

Non-necessary

Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.

Click to see the next question. Questions load randomly. Some have links for a deeper dive.

Who do I want to be?
Why am I this angry?
What is the next right thing?
Am I being seen? Am I seeing?
A week from now, will this have mattered?
What else could this be?
What's holding my attention?
How has this affected me?
What would love do now?
What is the wish behind the criticism?
What is the problem WE are trying to solve here?
What's the most important thing?
It's real but is it true?

QueryCards ©2021 Myiaccord LLC. All rights reserved.

image of the email series

7 ways to disagree better today

Seven proven practices you can use immediately. One a day for a week + monthly road-tested conflict resolution tools delivered to your inbox. No spam, unsubscribe anytime.

This companion download for the book is free — along with a free subscription to my monthly conflict resolution tools — when you register. Register just once to get full access to all downloads in my Resource Library:

  • This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.
loading Cancel
Post was not sent - check your email addresses!
Email check failed, please try again
Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.