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The flower business in a
makeshift tent on the parking lot
was busy.
People were rushing to buy last-minute expressions of their love
for Mother’s Day.
I looked at the plants with no intention of purchasing.
People waited impatiently to close their deals.
They complained about the costs.
And they shook their heads at the inconvenience.
But they wanted to honor their mothers.
I took a ride to where my
mother rests.
I found it on a slow hillside with thick grass that needed
trimming.
The marble headstone simply said her name and years of birth
and death.
I looked at the stone and remembered a life devoted to mine.
I was interrupted by small
children helping their parents put
flowers on the grave nearby.
My mother loved the little children like these.
Then I stared off into the lush mountains across the
tree-lined landscape.
She loved the outdoors like this.
A feeling of comfort came over
me as I looked at the stone again.
I was luckier than many people.
I shared her last moments of life.
I got to say the things you always wish you had said.
The deathbed promises came to mind and I knew that I
had kept them.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
I turned away knowing I’d
never visit this place again.
She was not there.
I carry her with me every day.
As I got in the car I looked over at the tiny plot of land covering
her flesh.
I had nothing else to say.
She already knew how I felt when she left.
Reprinted
from "Necessary words went unspoken"
Copyright 2003 Keith Gery |