At first, Chris believes the lake where he and his mother go to scatter his late father’s ashes represents how dysfunctional his relationship with his father was. But eventually, it comes to symbolize a brighter future for Chris—one that isn’t overshadowed by painful memories. When Chris was a child, his father took him on two fishing trips to the lake. Both trips were disasters, as Chris didn’t enjoy camping or fishing. To make matters worse, Chris understood that his father intended the trips to be male bonding experiences—they were supposed to connect father and son through the shared experience of doing stereotypically masculine outdoor activities and engaging in “blokey conversation.” Chris’s father took his son’s disinterest in these things to mean that Chris was perhaps gay (which turned out to be true) or shamefully feminine, which strained their relationship. Indeed, on the drive home from one of these trips, Chris’s father even went so far as to mutter, “I don’t know what’s bloody wrong with you,” affirming for Chris that he failed some test of masculinity by not enjoying himself. Thus, Chris looks back at the trips and at the lake and thinks of them as proof that his father wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. The lake is, in other words, the site of intense emotional trauma.
Since Chris’s father’s death, though, Chris’s mother has embellished these camping trips to the lake and turned them into something entirely different. In her mind, Chris and his father went to the lake many times, and each trip was deeply meaningful for her husband especially. The lake, to her, symbolizes the close bond that she imagines her husband and son had. This is why she insists on scattering her husband’s ashes at the lake—she wants his final resting place to be meaningful, and a place where he could connect with his son. Chris, however, tells the reader that his mother’s idea of the lake’s symbolism is “entirely invented”—and, in this sense, is even offensive to him. With this, “Ashes” suggests more broadly that a place’s symbolism can differ wildly from person to person and can even change over time. Indeed, even Chris’s understanding of the lake’s symbolism begins to change as he scatters his father’s ashes. As he sprinkles handfuls of ash into the water, he thinks that it wasn’t just his father who messed up on those trips. Chris realizes that his father was genuinely trying to connect with him, and that he could’ve made more of an effort to respond in kind. In this sense, coming to the lake becomes a way for him to say goodbye not just to the troubled relationship he had his father, but also to the relationship he wishes they could’ve had.
After this, as the story draws to a close, the lake begins to symbolize new beginnings. Chris is far kinder in his thoughts and actions to his mother after they scatter his father’s ashes, and the story implies that having completed this cathartic ritual, the two of them will be better able to work on their fraught relationship as well. Put another way, Chris begins to see that the lake doesn’t have to represent his poor relationship with his father, or the relationship they never had. This place can also represent the beginning of a future in which Chris is able to move past his childhood trauma, and one in which he and his mother are able to honestly and respectfully engage with each other.
The Lake Quotes in Ashes
“I told Shirley, that’s where he’d rather be laid to rest, in the place where he shared such precious times with his son. He had lots of happy memories of all those fishing trips.”
All those fishing trips. They’d been twice. Once at the Easter break, and once for the first week of the September school holidays. After that his father had given up. Both trips are still etched vividly in Chris’s mind, like so many of the powerless indignities of childhood.
His father’s forced cheeriness slowly evaporating into his usual taciturnity as he got tired of trying. Chris coughing into the acrid smoke. Trying not to move too much in the stuffy sleeping bag at night. Then the packing of the car on the last day, the esky empty and leaking melted ice, and his obscure sense that he’d failed some test.
It’s nauseating, this revisionism; it infuriates him. This, he thinks savagely, this is the best she can summon: the two of them travelling alone to enact a ceremony in the presence of no lifelong friends, no neighbours who care enough, no extended family, in a place whose symbolism is wholly an invention. This is the reality, he imagines saying to her, just you and me, your 35-year-old son who you cast as the perennial bachelor, this pitiful pilgrimage I can’t wait to be finished with.
His father had trodden the coals down, crushing them neatly, scattered some soil over the top just like Chris is scattering the contents of the box now over the water. Small handfuls. That smell of wet ash, and the cicadas beating like the ticking of a clock, and his father giving the site one last glance around and saying, “Great spot anyway, don’t you reckon, Chris?”
Why hadn’t he answered with enthusiastic assent? What would it have cost him to give his father that, instead of a shrug, just for the small mean pleasure of feeling his father turn away, defeated?
Chris thinks they can probably get back there by 4.30. As he nods and agrees what a nice gesture it would be, he sees a small smear of ash on the lapel of her jacket, and absently, tenderly, without interrupting her, he brushes it off.