Floating Free

This past weekend we observed the 100th day anniversary of my father-in-law’s death; friends and family gathered at the temple on Friday evening for prayers; even Sandria, our two and a half year old niece, managed to put her hands together and ‘wai’ the monks. Saturday was the big day, lots of prayers and ceremonies that culminate with the cremation of the body.

Sunday morning, we (the immediate family) went to the temple to collect Dad’s remains. When we arrived, I could see the remains laid out on a white cloth; I had expected a pile of ashes but there were a fair number of bone fragments left and they were arranged to resemble a person, albeit a very small person after having been subject to the intense fire of the crematorium. Although I have attended other cremations in my ten years here in Thailand, this was the first time I had been through this part of the process. I was curious to get a closer look but, as I was in charge of Sandria, I opted to glance from a distance and not get too close; the last thing I wanted was to have to explain what we were looking at to Sandria.

I watched as the head monk led the family in another prayer/ceremony which included sprinkling some fresh flowers on top of Dad’s remains and then what I assume was ‘holy’ water. The white cloth was then gently lifted up, the four corners being pulled together to form what looked like a cloth sack. This ‘sack’ was then placed into the urn and given to Mom. While many Thai’s keep the bones / ashes in an urn at home or in a small memorial at the temple, some families, including my in-laws, opt for a more unique resting place for their deceased.

We left the temple, my mother-in-law gently holding the urn, and we were off on Dad’s final journey. After an hour’s drive we were at the coast, where the mighty Chao Phraya River flows into the Gulf of Siam. There is a large temple there that helps families send their deceased back to nature, set them free if you will. We weren’t the only people there that day to perform this ritual and the queue was long when we arrived. Thankfully, there were trees to shade us from the late morning sun and a constant breeze to keep us cool.

After hours of waiting, it was our turn to go out on the boat; an old fishing vessel converted into what is effectively a floating temple. We sailed down the Chao Phraya to where river and sea merge; it was peaceful, a refreshing wind in our faces and the sound of the boat’s motor humming along. It might have been a solemn journey as well but nothing is terribly solemn with Sandria and Tanggwa, her six year old 2nd cousin; the girls were cheerfully calling out to all the big ocean tankers and freighters we passed; the crew on those ships certainly couldn’t hear the little voices yelling out “bye bye” but they could see little hands waving and they probably saw the cute little smiles because the crews all waved and smiled back.

Once we reached our destination in the water, the boat’s captain expertly manoeuvred the boat into a reasonably stationary position; not an easy task given the volume of water flowing out to sea. The other man on the boat was much older, his leathery skin revealed faded Buddhists tattoos, his greying, receding hair swept back and his gentle smile revealed several missing teeth. I suspect he spent several years as a monk in his younger days, due to the aforementioned tattoos as well as the numerous Buddhist amulets around his neck.

This gentle, weathered old man moved gracefully and effortlessly around the boat as he prepared things for the final ceremony. Once he had everything in place, the family gathered around and he led the family in what I assume were Buddhist prayers; Sandria and I quietly watched … at least I wasn’t the only one who was clueless as to what was happening.

In the centre of all the family members, who were kneeling on the deck, was a golden coloured tray, on top of the tray the white cloth with Dad’s ashes / bones and the flowers that had been sprinkled in before we left the Bkk temple. Once the prayers / chanting were done, what I assume was sacred water was poured over Dad’s remains by the senior family members. Another prayer was said and then Kay had the honour of placing the remains in the water. The white cloth bobbed gently in the water as the current quickly took it away; Dad was now free and one with nature.

The irony of Dad’s final journey didn’t hit me until Sunday night; I was listening to and trying to follow what Dad’s elder sister was telling me and then it clicked. Dad and his siblings never learned to swim and Dad had never been on a boat; at least not that I’m aware of and certainly nothing small to medium sized. Hence, the nature lover that he was never got to appreciate marine nature … until his final journey. He’s now one with nature, one with the fish and most importantly, he’s floating free.