Thin Spots

On Wednesday (March 16th), while driving home from the gym, the kids spotted Heavy's cemetery and asked to see him.  It was a great warm day, the snow was melting and the they had rain boots on, so I said yes, we could go. The car erupted into cheers!  They hadn't been up the hill to his grave since the snow had fallen.  We parked the car, found a spot on his hill where the snow wasn't very deep and hiked up to his grave.

The cemetery ground keepers were removing the Christmas wreaths that day and Heavy's had already been removed, leaving a depression in the melting snow.  Peter laid down in the depression, curled up and kissed the snow next to him, pat it gently and said, "I love you Heavy."  I stood holding Maria's hand watching my son have a moment with his brother.  We all were silent.

A car pulled up near ours a few minutes later and out came a man (who appeared to be a hired driver) and an old woman holding a bouquet of tulips.  They slowly made their way up the snowy hill made slippery and sticky by all of the March melting and began wandering around near us.  The beautiful woman with deep set wrinkles got her bearings by measuring her paces between the monument stones.  She was standing next to me, shoulder to shoulder.

In a mix of gestures, broken English, drawing in the snow and some help from her driver, we learned that she was looking for the headstone of her daughter, a surgeon who died in 2008 from breast cancer.  She knew the location of her daughters plot by the wreath that was next to it...  Heavy's.  I explained that the wreath, was my son's who died shortly after birth in October.  I showed the mother and her driver where her daughter's headstone should be.  They began to dig.... and dig... and dig... after nearly ten minutes of digging with a plastic cone/vase for the flowers, they struck granite.  The whole shape of the woman's face and wrinkles changed.  She was ELATED to have found her daughter.  We hugged.  We got tears in our eyes.  It was her daughter's birthday.

A very holy moment. Two mothers- one young, one old. Two children- one life so short, another lived and taken too soon. Two different native tounges.  One messy emotion of love, loss, joy, pain, and relief of having found your child.

This mother poured water in to the plastic cone/vase/shovel, which she brought with her in a Snapple jar and arranged the flowers.  She looked at the arrangement and smiled.  I can only imagine her thoughts and heart whispers to her daughter and to God.

I may never again see this woman, however, I will always remember her and honor the memory of her daughter when I visit my son and  I will never forget how close Heaven seemed to me that day, in the Celtic Christian tradition, those moments are called Thin Spots.  It was HOLY Time.