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I posted this picture on my blog and FB back in May, but I'm posting it again today with a little story. Shon was one of my closest friends in high school. We drifted apart for a bit after I graduated, reconnected for a while, then drifted apart again for a long time.
As most of you know, I made a quick trip to Brookings last year to mark the day that I was as old as my mom was when she died, one month and three days short of 39. I spent that Sunday morning at the cemetery and figured I'd go to my childhood church if I was done at the cemetery in time. I had to pass Shon's house as I left and almost skipped church to pop in for a quick visit with him and his mom, who is a fabulous lady, but opted to stick with my original plan.
Church had just started when Shon walked up to me. He didn't attend there back in high school and I was completely shocked to see him. He invited me to sit with his family and to join them for lunch after church. I can't remember exactly how the conversation went or who shared relevant information first, but at some point over lunch I was totally surprised to find out that he has put flowers on my mom's grave from time to time.
Five years earlier Tim and I had taken the little Ws to see where Grandma Barbara is buried and had discovered flowers on her grave. Here's what I'd said about it at the time.
"Flowers. There were flowers on her grave. Granted, they were fake like all the other ones in the cemetery, but they were there. And they were "fresh", neither faded from the sun nor beat up from the wind and rain. You guys, my mom's been dead for well over 18 years and none of our family lives in Brookings anymore. That means someone, and I have no idea who, has gone out of their way to acknowledge her life nearly two decades after her death. I don't know if it was a random occurrence that I just happened to catch or if it's been going on all these years, but it blew me away. Totally made my day and I've smiled each time I've thought about it since. And sometimes I tear up while I'm smiling."
I mentioned in a blog post back in May that I'd discovered who had probably left the mystery flowers several years earlier, but I didn't want to say who it was at that point. Today, on this 24th anniversary of my mom's death, I feel differently about it. As I type this post, I keep getting choked up. But my tears aren't about my missing my mom. They're about remembering and honoring. They're about childhood friends, lives that go in different directions and yet stay connected in little ways, acts of kindness done without any expectation of recognition.
I'd never taken Shon to my mom's grave site, but it turns out he'd worked at the cemetery at one point and he described to me exactly where my mom is buried. This guy never knew my mom. He and I weren't in contact during the time he was adorning her grave. If not for a chance meeting one Sunday morning, I'd never have known he'd been there with flowers in his hand.
Shon took the time to honor my mom's life and death simply because he and I had been friends. I'm so grateful.
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