I went to the cemetery yesterday to visit my mother’s grave before heading to work in Boston.
It was a beautiful day; the sun was brilliant, nary a cloud in the indigo sky, a slight warm breeze.
Suffice to say, I had a sentimental moment.
Maybe it was the fact that my father may not be here next Mother’s Day, maybe it was the bittersweet feeling I got driving through my old neighborhood.
I’m not really sure.
In my mind’s eye, I could see myself as a child running through the backyards of my youth without a care in the world.
For some reason I was missing my mother more this year than any previous one.
Couldn’t put my finger on it but the longing was undeniable, inescapable.
I arrived at the cemetery and walked up to her grave, placing a white rose on the cold granite stone bench bearing her name and I whispered a prayer, a Hail Mary.
I sat alone and talked to the empty cemetery as if she was sitting right next to me, and maybe she was.
I asked questions about my life that currently had no answers; dark fears and unfulfilled dreams.
A few tears fell to the ground watering the place where she lay but oddly enough they weren’t sad tears.
With every teardrop that fell, the better I felt.
That was my mother’s way: to make the sunshine come impossibly through the rain.
I kissed the palm of my hand and touched her name before leaving feeling much better than when I arrived.
I now know that she was there, somehow.
Later that day, I received an email from my twin sister, m~ , with ‘Mom’ in the subject box.
I knew she would be visiting the cemetery later that day and thought the email would mention that she saw the white rose and scribbled note I’d left hours earlier.
Her email mentioned that exact thing.
She also mentioned that for some reason she was missing Mom more this year than usual though she didn’t quite know why.
It was another affirmation that we will always be connected, always be twins.
We experienced the same emotional experience several hours apart.
I considered it a small gift sent down from my mother.
Knowing her as I did, she’d have it no other way.