The little cemetery in Whaletown wasn’t very far from their home, but Ruth didn’t get around to visiting as often as she should. She had planted a small dogwood tree next to her parents’ grave, but that first summer they’d had a drought, and she’d forgotten to water it, so although the little tree had survived, it had lost some limbs and its pleasing symmetry. She felt bad about this.
“Sorry, Mom,” she said, using a whisk broom to brush the winter’s accumulation of dust and dead leaves from the small granite plaque that bore her mother’s name. “I’m not very good at this.”
Of course, her mother didn’t answer, but Ruth knew she wouldn’t have cared. Masako never had much use for ritual, never remembered birthdays or celebrated anniversaries, and generally thought occasions of this sort were just a bother. And Ruth generally agreed, but after reading Nao’s account of old Jiko’s funeral, she found herself wishing she’d done more to commemorate her mother’s passing.
This scene, simply reminds me that it’s been long since the last time I’ve visited my mother’s grave. Like Ruth did, I’ll visit my mother’s grave soon -after I finished my period.
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