I was on the train home yesterday, when the Neville Brothers shuffled into position on my iPod:
I was standing by my window
On a cold and cloudy day
When I saw that hearse wheel rolling
It was taking my mother away
Undertaker, undertaker
Won't you please drive real slow?
That's my mother, my dear old mother
I sure hate to see her go
My heart stopped a little. I remember watching the hearse take my mother away, a year ago today.
And then, when I got to my house, there was a little white stone sitting in the gutter, right at the top of my driveway, about the size of a lima bean. It's not a piece of gravel, it's not a native rock. It's like the rocks my mother loved to pick up on the beach at Fire Island - perfect little surf tumbled stones, pure white shot through with tiny grey veins, flat and smooth in the hand.
She hasn't a headstone, she wasn't buried, so I can't mark my visits by putting pebbles on her tombstone. Instead, it's like she came to me, in the form of that little rock sitting in front of my house.
I can't believe it's been a year. It feels like just yesterday.
24 comments:
Oh, Moky. I wish I knew you.
Hugs, Magpie.
Wow. I do believe the dead reach out to us in ways we can't fathom. Until we see the proof: a bird, a stone, the perfect song for a moment.
What a blessing that your mother's life was so rich in the hearts of others that you can recall it by something as simple as a pebble.
Here's to building an equally rich inheritance. And plenty of hugs for those times when your mama's arms are no longer there to hold you. She loved you so much.
I'm glad you found that pebble. I'm glad she still finds her way back to you.
(((Magpie)))
Isn't it amazing, how songs speak to you at certain days and times? Thinking of you.
Wow. Thinking of you...
What a lovely sign.
Beautiful post.
Reminds me of Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. There must be magic in that pebble.
Nice post.
I love when a ghostly leave-behind appears at your feet! I'm practicing now, to make things float in the wind. That will be my schtick when I'm dead. xoh
xoxox
As the Neville Brothers surely know, no funeral is complete with a parade. Even in their grief they would be marching behind that hearse, with trumpets playing and umbrellas dancing... celebrating a life well lived.
And picking up pebbles along the way.
xoxo
Beautiful.
Thinking of you.
I am sorry, even this year later, for your loss. Because it remains so fresh.
Oh Maggie. Sending much love...
Thinking of you and Moky. What a lovely, heartbreaking post.
I'm glad she put the pebble in your path :-)
I can't believe it is a year already too. This was so lovingly written Maggie. As others said, I would have like to have known her. But I'm glad to know you and your love of her. Thinking of you.
Oh, I like that. I believe in these things. Peace to you, M.
Thinking of you. xo
This post is lovely. What a nice thing to find.
I remember this, when you wrote about your mother dying.
And even to me it doesn't seem like a year.
My heart ached a bit, reading this. ((((Hugs))))) don't know what else to say.
They come to me all the time, those people. In little words or songs or memories, but not physically like that. That is cool.
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