Chap­ter 17: Ruthie begins with the serene pass­ing of Joe on a Sun­day morn­ing, his final moments marked by peace and qui­etude. Sur­round­ed by the love of his fam­i­ly, Joe’s depar­ture, though heavy with sor­row, was filled with the warmth of those he held dear. Leah, struck by the pro­found sense of loss, clung to Joe’s hand, tears stream­ing down her face as she kissed his hand, mourn­ing the broth­er she would nev­er again share her life with. Mae and the nar­ra­tor, well-versed in the hard­ships of life and death, kept their com­po­sure. They stood firm, embody­ing the strength of women who had faced sor­row before, offer­ing sup­port with­out break­ing down. Ben, stand­ing near­by, was pre­pared to guide Joe’s spir­it away, a silent wit­ness to the tran­si­tion. Mean­while, their moth­er dis­tanced her­self from the emo­tion­al scene, retreat­ing to the liv­ing room to qui­et­ly watch the finch­es, her gen­tle sobs fill­ing the silence as she found her own way of griev­ing.

After Joe’s pass­ing, his wish­es were hon­ored, and his body was cre­mat­ed. His ash­es were care­ful­ly divid­ed, one por­tion laid to rest in Nova Sco­tia beside Char­lie, his broth­er, and the oth­er sent to Maine, a place that had deep sig­nif­i­cance in their family’s his­to­ry. A funer­al ser­vice took place, fol­lowed by a qui­et ten-day peri­od in which Leah and the nar­ra­tor found solace in their shared grief. They then set off togeth­er to the berry fields, with Joe’s ash­es secure­ly placed in the back seat, their jour­ney a sym­bol­ic return to the roots of their shared his­to­ry. This return, though bit­ter­sweet, rep­re­sent­ed an act of hon­or­ing Joe’s life and lega­cy, and the jour­ney back to the berry fields sym­bol­ized the process of both remem­brance and heal­ing, as they sought to find peace in the famil­iar land­scape.

As they arrived at the cab­in, Leah mar­veled at the way the fad­ing evening light caught the cabin’s sparkling paint, a tes­ta­ment to Joe’s crafts­man­ship. The intri­cate details of the flow­ers, clouds, and shim­mer­ing blue waves that adorned the cab­in brought forth a flood of mem­o­ries. These mark­ings were not just dec­o­ra­tive but reflec­tive of the time and love Joe had poured into the space he had built with his own hands. Leah ran her fin­gers gen­tly along the pat­terns, feel­ing a con­nec­tion to her father in the process. The cab­in stood as a silent wit­ness to Joe’s ded­i­ca­tion and artistry, and in that moment, Leah, along with the nar­ra­tor, was remind­ed of the beau­ty he had cre­at­ed, which would for­ev­er be a part of their lives.

When they laid Joe’s ash­es beside the steps he had once con­struct­ed, the act was laden with deep per­son­al mean­ing. The nar­ra­tor, hold­ing Leah’s hand tight­ly, couldn’t help but notice how much Leah resem­bled her, a poignant reminder of their shared past and the fam­i­ly that had shaped them both. As the ash­es were laid to rest in such a sacred place, the nar­ra­tor began to feel a pro­found sense of peace slow­ly wash­ing over her. The heav­i­ness of the past, the pain of loss, and the weight of unre­solved emo­tions began to light­en, giv­ing way to a bit­ter­sweet clo­sure. The act of bury­ing Joe’s ash­es, in a place so con­nect­ed to their fam­i­ly his­to­ry, sym­bol­ized the end of an era and the painful yet nec­es­sary tran­si­tion into a life where Joe would no longer be phys­i­cal­ly present. Yet, the mem­o­ries, the love, and the bond they had shared would live on in this sacred space, where his pres­ence would be for­ev­er felt. This rit­u­al was not mere­ly a farewell but a pro­found acknowl­edg­ment of the endur­ing impact Joe had on their lives, a final act of love and remem­brance as they nav­i­gat­ed the dif­fi­cult path of loss and heal­ing.