hast Request “It was my father’s last request.” Father O’Reilly looked at the urn with a degree of trepidation. “I’m not so sure,” he said. “ I had reservations over this whole cremation thing, but what you propose seems.«foolish.” Martha looked at the priest with a degree of impious impatience. Father O’ Reilly had been the family’s priest since before Martha had been born. He had baptized her as a child. She had grown up with his indelible presence. Sunday morning at mass. Wednesday night for tea. When father had died, it was O’Reilly who offici- ated the commemorative mass. “What do you mean, there won’t be a body? There has to be a body.” The discus- sion had been long and heated. But in the end, the memory of the dead won out. The commemorative mass had been held. Chesterville was a small, backwater town. “Modern” ideas such as cremation were looked upon with suspicion. Martha had deliberately withheld this last bit of infor- mation until after the final prayers had been said. The service had been on Thursday. It was Monday morning before she finally approached the venerable old man. “Look. Dad was a pilot for most of his life. And you yourself went on hundreds of fishing trips with him. Is it so strange that he wants to be remembered in this way?” “Yes, but dumping his ashes out the win- dow of a plane over Chester’s bay? It’s just not right.” Martha sighed inwardly. O'Reilly was a good man, but had a streak of Irish in him that a lifetime of submission the the Lord had yet to break. “Look. Father. | know you consider it improper to do this. That it somehow goes against God’s grand scheme of things, and honestly, I’m not sure myself. All I know is that my daddy left me with this request and I intend to carry out his wishes, with or without you.” O’Reilly slumped back into his chair and sighed. Watching him, Martha realized how truly old he was. She had heard stories about other priests who were aloof - who held themselves apart from their congrega- tions. O’Reilly had never been like that. He tossed himself into the life of his flock like any good Shepherd. And now he watched as one by one his sheep were dying. Suddenly, he sat up. “I don’t like it,” he said, “but Henry was my friend, and his wishes are more important to me than any theological grey areas. When did you want to do it?” The old de Havalind sat glimmering in the morning light. How many times have I been up in that old thing? Martha though to herself. Some of her earliest memories were of flying with her father. She loved the freedom. Loved the exhilaration of tak- ing wing in a thousand pounds of metal and wood. Her father, she knew, had wished for a son to carry on the family name. But he hadn’t been disappointed with her skills and determination. He shouldn’t be, she storray TRENT ERNST artwork BY DARIN CLISBY smiled considering that he was the one who taught me. *..l want you to take my body, and burn it... no, no. Listen to me. Don’t give me that crap. I’m dying. You know it, and I know it.” Martha had not cried for years. Not since her mother had died. Now the tears flowed down her cheeks as she watched the life drain from her father. “I want you to take it and burn it. Listen! Once you burn it, I want you to take my old on many of their fishing trips. “It’s symbolic. Dad loved to fly, and he loved to fish. Dumping his ashes from the sky over the bay. You understand.” “} don’t understand why it has to be me.” “Tt was his last request.” “T know. I know.” The old priest kept muttering to himself as he climbed up into the cockpit. “It still isn’t right. If God had meant for man to fly...” “If God hadn’t wanted man to fly, he crate up and dump the ashes at 2 000 feet. Take Jack along. Get him to administer whatever rites he thinks appropriate.” A hacking cough, or was it a laugh? “He’s a stubborn bastard, but tell him, tell him it was my dying wishes. That'll get him off his ass.” Martha sat, enwrapped in memories until an old VW beetle rattled up. She watched as Father O'Reilly extricated himself from the lime green bug. He waved good morn- ing as he approached. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” “Yes, it is. A perfect day for flying. Here.” Martha handed the urn to the priest. “This is, uh. I mean, this is, him, is it?” Martha nodded. “Everything clear and ready for take off, so if you would kindly hop in, we’ll be off.” O’Reilly eyed the plane with suspicion. “He would make me do this, wouldn’t he? He knows how much | hate flying. Why couldn’t we have done this from the Brass Minnow? The Minnow was her father’s small outboard, and had seen the two men would never have given us the brains to fig- ure it out.” Martha kicked off the moorings and hopped into the cockpit after the priest. The plane taxied over the glassy stillness of the inlet, the roar echoing off the forest- ed shores. The morning sun was already burning away the wispy fog. A family of ducks scurried away from the oncoming plane as the pontoons cut a foamy white path through the water. Then, with scarcely a thought, they were airborne. “Relax, Father. We’re not going to crash. You know that God is not going to call you to heaven before your time.” O’Reilly eyed her suspiciously. “Yes, but what if it’s your time? Can you see me before Saint Peter? He’d ask what I was doing there. I’d tell him I was with you." “Sorry. I used to say that to your father every time he would force me up in this beast. Can’t say that the joke has gotten any better over the years, but it helps me relax” Martha glanced over at his white knuck- les clenching the urn and shook her head. She couldn’t understand his fear of flying. It is only when I am flying I am truly alive. Her father had told her that, years before. “We’re nearly at two thousand feet. When we get there, I’m going to level off, and circle the bay, okay? You can perform the ceremony, and then release his ashes. Okay?” O’Reilly nodded. Martha leveled off at the appropriate altitude, and began lazily circling over the bay. O’Reilly forced his window open. The muffled roar of the engine became loud and insistent. A whirling, swirling breeze tossed Martha’s unbound hair into her face. With one hand, she pulled it back and tucked the long reddish strands under her shirt collar. “Well, there is no set rites for this sort of thing. Henry was always a bit of a free- spirit, but we loved him the more for it. We take this time to remember our dear friend and father. We commend his ashes to the sky and the sea that he loved so much, and we commend his soul to God. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We'll always remember you.” O’Reilly held the urn out the window and poured. The world went grey as the cockpit was filled with fine, grey ash. Everything was motion and panic. “T can’t see!” “Shut the window!” “I can’t breath!” “Shit! Let go of the stick! Let go of the stick!” “We’re going to die!” “RELAX! Shut the damn window” “I dropped it.” “Just shut the window, okay? We’re not going to crash. We’re two thou- sand feet up. LET GO OF THE STICK!” O’Reilly finally got the window closed, and the ash quickly settled. Martha wiped the fine, silky ash off the window and the instrumentation. The urn, dropped in the panic, plummeted down towards the sea, trailing ash like smoke. Two thousand feet later it ham- mered into the bay. “Just let it go, all right.” Martha snapped at the priest. “Tm all right.” Inside, her stomach was in knots. I’m sorry, daddy, She silently prayed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The two sat in silence, Martha chewing on her anger and frustration. As the plane began it’s descent, O’Reilly began to chuckle, and then laugh out loud. “What?” Martha snapped. “What is so damn funny?” She knew better that to curse the priest, but she wasn’t in the mood for this. “Can’t you see?” O’Reilly,was smiling. “Can’t you see? Oh, this is beautiful. Your father would have enjoyed the irony of it, too. He loved a good joke. And he loved to fly. You see?” Martha frowned, not comprehending. “He loved to fly. And now he’ll always be flying with you, cause there is no way you’re going to get all of him out of this plane.” O’Reilly rubbed a finger in the fine soot and laughed “He’|l always be with you. -Always.”