Soon she’s gonna fly right off that bridge
That three-way arch they call the Tridge
She always loved it, her place of peace
And thus, from there, she’ll be released
The wind will blow and she’ll drift on down
To flow with the river from town to town
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
This Saturday we'll be scattering my mother's ashes off the Tridge - a three-legged foot bridge that spans the confluence of the Tittabawassee and Chippewa rivers in Midland, Michigan.
Mom discovered the Tridge a few years ago, after she retired near there. She always considered it a meditative place to visit - her 'place of peace' she called it - so we know she'd approve.
Rest in peace, mom.