A year ago we laid mom’s ashes to rest at the place she loved most in the world. With friends and family nearby, dad carefully lowered the precious urn, enshrined in a box he spent hours putting together. A box made to withstand centuries of weathering and decay. A box he made to hold her safe forever.
This year we went back. The kids planted balloons by mom’s grave and marvelled at the pictures etched into the headstone. A grand piano and the first two bars of the song that for us, always defined her, “Morning Has Broken.” The images that told anyone who cared to look who was remembered here.
I played the harp for my mom when we first laid her ashes into the ground and I played again this time. Every year I want to make music for my mom, who loved to play, love to listen and made music a part of her essence.
I will miss her for the rest of my life. I am grateful for every moment we had.