On our way back from camping this weekend, we stopped at my kids' other mother's house to wish her a happy Mother's Day and a happy birthday. She and her husband and their daughter and son-in-law live across from a cemetery. They took this location into account, as it is not particularly good luck in their culture to be within such distance to gobs of dead folks. In the end, they followed the advice of a relative, bought the house, but did not move into it until after the new (lunar) year. This was several years ago, and they have been quite happy and not ill-at-ease (to a casual observer such as myself) with their decision.
Sunday was, of course, Mother's Day for all of you players in the U.S. I got my new pair of sneakers and my handmade cards. Oh, and I got to go camping rather than whoop it up at the school fundraiser Saturday night. [Quit bitchin', folks, I bought the outrageously priced tickets and considered it a donation. We wouldn't have bought anything anyway as we are saving our pennies for our European vacation this summer. I know, we're a bunch of selfish brats.]
Where was I? Oh, yes, I was at the house across the street from the cemetery. Man, that cemetery was the happening place to be yesterday. There was non-stop action, but there was nary a burial in sight. People were piling into their cars and going to visit their mothers' graves. They were going to honor their moms, to place flowers on the grave sites, to say a prayer, to say hello, to show they still love their mothers.
I like that. I really do. I like the fact that I got to talk to my mom on the phone Sunday morning a heck of a lot better, mind you, but I think it is hecka cool that so many people took the time to show their love and respect for their mothers by visiting the burial sites. I hope they also took the time to show it when their mothers were alive.
P.S. I love you, Mom!