By the time I got to where I was going, I was soaked. The poncho that I was wearing was not a good choice for this wind and pelting rain. There would be no glorious sunrise this morning, but I was here, just as I had been every April 20 for the past four years. As the sky lightened, the wind and rain let up a little, I was able to walk further out onto the slippery rocks and watch the waves roll in.
Fives years ago today, I said goodbye to my mother for the very last time. My daughter and I scattered her ashes in the ocean by a little stretch of rocky beach. It’s a very special place, an isolated spot full of rocks and tide pools. It’s a place where I always feel a heightened sense of awareness.
As the rain picked up and I started my way back up the rocky path, I turned to look at the groupings of rocks, near where her ashes were scattered. If I could have any wish granted it would be for one more conversation with Mom. I would tell her how wonderful a mother she had been. Her door was always open, no matter what foolish things I did. We were so different, her and I. I know that I was not the daughter that she expected and she was not someone I always understood. Her ways were too steady for me. Her expectations were not mine. She bore many disappointments. But, no matter what, she was always there to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
By the time I reached my car, I thought the same thing that I do every April 20 after the sun comes up. That maybe next year, she’ll be sitting on one of the rocks waiting for me and the sun.
