Four years ago, I was waiting for my flight at RDU when I learned that Queen Elizabeth II died. Ironic that she passed while at Balmoral Castle in Scotland and my flight was to Edinburgh. My cousin, Kim had asked me to go with her to Skye, Scotland, in the Outer Hebrides, to honor her mother’s final request to take her ashes to her ancestral homeland.

The next morning when we arrived in Edinburgh, things had been set into motion to prepare for honoring the Queen Mother. Police officers were cordoning off the streets along the Royal Mile. There was an air of expectancy and reverence as the city waited the arrival of the body to pay their respects at St Gile’s Cathedral. Down the street from the cathedral was The Kirk of the Canongate, where the Queen often worshipped. People sat quietly in the pews facing the beautiful memorial at the front of the sanctuary.

It seemed fitting that at the same time Kim was honoring her mother, the royal family was honoring theirs. The impact of those matriarchs was worthy of that respect. Kim had carefully prepared to transport her mother’s ashes, following the guidelines of TSA. On the Sunday morning after we arrived, we boarded a Rabbie’s tour bus for the 6-day trip deep into the Scottish Highlands and then island-hopping across the Isle of Skye and the remote islands of Lewis and Harris. Kim carried that approved container of ashes in her carefully guarded book bag.

“Mom’s gone everywhere with us,” Kim told me. Her mother, Yvonne and my mother, Mary were first cousins and best friends who’d traveled together when they were young women. Kim and I went on the journey to Skye together, cousins taking off on behalf of our mothers. Yvonne had never been to Scotland, but she wanted her daughter to go; what better way to insure that would happen than to make it her final wish.

In 2017, I went to Scotland for the first time when I traveled to the Inner Hebrides, those barrier islands that were closer to the mainland. I’d attended a retreat at Iona Abbey with 39 other participants from various countries. One of the men that I got to know, Aldo was from the Netherlands. He first told me about Skye.

“It is the most spiritual place I’ve ever been,” he said. “I’ve gone on personal retreats there and felt renewed after being in that remote, wild beauty.” When Kim said that was the place we’d scatter her mother’s ashes, I was amazed that I would be going to that place that meant so much to Aldo.

Our Rabbie’s bus driver-tour guide was a young woman from Northern Ireland. “Catty” was amazing in how she could maneuver that bus down narrow lanes and park in tight spots. Kim told Catty about her mission for coming to Skye. Catty knew just the place to provide privacy for Kim while the others walked to a lighthouse.

When we arrived, I couldn’t believe the splendor of the landscape. It was like none I’d ever witnessed.

When the others had left for the lighthouse, Kim found her spot and I stood nearby to film. She pulled up a bagpipe version of her mother’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace” and played it while she released her mother’s ashes and set her free.

We could feel our mothers’ presence as if they were right beside us as we honored Yvonne’s wishes. Afterwards, someone standing nearby pointed out a rainbow that had formed, even though there was no rain falling around us. How perfect that the rainbow appeared at just the right moment. It truly felt like amazing grace.

I thought of Aldo referring to Skye as a spiritual place. We’d felt that and knew we’d never forget that sacred site.