“The heart has its reasons, which reason knows nothing of.” ~ Blaise Pascal
I did something random and weird today. I did something I never thought, in a million years, that I would do. I went to the florist at the graveyard where my mother is buried. And then, I bought a fake Christmas tree.
It’s about two feet in height. It’s decorated with red ornaments and gold bows. I paid $55 for the thing. Then I took it to my mom’s grave and staked it into the ground. The ground was hard. It took several tries before I could get it to take root. I was sweating and cursing and then I had to laugh at myself.
What the fuck am I doing?, I wondered. I know my mother doesn’t care. I know she’s passed. I suspect the last thing on her heavenly, omniscient mind right now is whether or not I’m spending my hard-earned yoga money on decorating her gravesite. And yet, I couldn’t stop myself.
I hatched the plan last week when I went to visit her grave, something I do bizarrely often, in my estimation. I often go there when I’m confused, upset, sad, excited, or just bored. Sometimes, my car drives itself. I park and think, I’m here again. I get up and trudge to her site. I know it inside and out now. I could find her site with a blindfold on.
Sometimes, I sit down and just breathe. Sometimes, I pray. Sometimes, I cry. Sometimes, I smile. It really just depends. I swear I can feel her there though. I imagine holding her uber-powerful and serenely-soft left hand, the only limb that had any life in it at the time of her death, and I just swoon.
I miss my mom. Her death was horrific and tragic and far too soon. But she is better off now and I would not want her here suffering as she did in the end. I love her and miss her and I know, I know, I know she is still with me in my heart. Our loved ones are with us still, for this I know.
And I hope she likes the gold bows. She always loved those.