A Sense Of Closure

A trip to heavenly Tiree sees a return to the wild with true emotional purpose - and a vulnerable squirrel kit in tow

- POLLY PULLAR

SCATTERING a loved one's ashes is a profoundly personal matter. For many, it is a vital part of the grieving process, a coming to terms with loss. It can involve ceremonies and rituals, special trips to places dear to the deceased, or a quiet foray to bury or spread ashes close to home. After Mum's cremation, being handed a nondescript plastic bag of considerable weight was something I found upsetting. Was this all that remained of my flamboyant mother? What exactly are ashes? And why do we use this term? I had recently read a piece on the subject, and it made me feel more detached. lomhair, my partner, took charge of the bag because it upset me, and he put it in a safe place out of sight. "One day, you'll feel like dealing with it," he said wisely.

Eight years passed, and the bag lay hidden. Now my son Freddy and I wanted to bring Mum's departure to closure and planned a few days away somewhere beautiful - it would be a memorable trip for both of us - and it had to be in the west. It could have been Ardnamurchan but I didn't feel up to the memories. Tiree had been a very special place to us all, and Mum loved it.

Five days before I was due to meet Freddy in Oban, ready for an early sailing, I had a call from a retired gamekeeper at Blair Atholl. He had seen a squirrel carrying her kit across his garden. She had dropped it and vanished, and though the kit was left for three hours while the concerned couple watched from their windows, the mother didn't return - this was unusual.

It was a cold day with a bitter easterly wind, and the tiny kit was vulnerable. The decision to intervene is not to be taken lightly.

Hand-rearing is fraught with problems. It is time-consuming, and however well you carry out your role as a surrogate mother, you will never equal that of the natural mother, which means the baby is disadvantaged.