Symbols

I was driving  to the cemetery this afternoon with the windows down.  It was a breezy day.  My bow blew out--the bow that Keith and the kids put in my new  van on Mother's Day 10 years ago.  I pulled over,  put on my emergency flashers and jumped out.  I had to cross the road and look around until I found it.  When I got it,  I started to cross back;  a semi truck stopped for me and even let me go in front of him.

As soon as I started to drive the tears flowed.  It was like I just recovered my long lost best friend.  That bow was a symbol--a symbol of being a good mom.  I've been pushing back my feelings for a while and refusing to sit at the computer and think about how I'm doing.  When I got to the cemetery and saw how the grass looked,  I just couldn't help but think it was also a symbol.  We tried so hard to get green beautiful grass to grow and cover Ian's grave this past winter and spring.  Leave it to me to plant seed that wasn't resistant to the hot sun.  Now it's dead.  Good Intentions;  Hard Work;  Love;  Still Dead.

I guess bawling over a iridescent bow is a  pretty good sign of how I am.  Not to mention standing over a grave and begging my son to please go with us on our trip this weekend.