About to get up from my sister’s kitchen table, I look with satisfaction at my selections from my mother’s jewelry: three family rings, a chain of purple crystals, and a necklace.
Nothing is worth much monetarily, but every piece will mean something to me or the other intended recipients: my daughter-in-law and granddaughter. As I look around the table and see my siblings happily packing up their own selections, I smile. It’s been a good process, with good outcomes and good feelings.
“Mom will be so pleased,” I think.
Glancing back before the funeral service starts, I catch sight of Mom a few pews back. “What’s she doing back there?” I wonder. I mean, her regular seat is on the other side of the church.
“Did you see that?” At the uncharacteristic excitement in my brother’s voice, my head draws back from the camera viewfinder.
“Well, I saw a white mini-marshmallow being picked up by the parent barn swallow.”
No, my brother says that I saw a baby bird’s fecal sac being removed from the nest to be disposed of where it can’t alert predators to the nearby presence of defenceless young. As he explains it to me, I’m wondering how soon I can download and process my photo when we get back into town. Mom will be so interested.
And so it goes. The email about the bear quintuplets that I almost forward. The photo magazine on oceans that I almost buy at the grocery checkout stand. The video of the ducks and ducklings at her seniors’ residence that I almost send. The chocolates I almost re-order, prompted by my monthly calendar reminder.
“Mom will like to get this.”