My mom and dad (he died two years ago) are buried in a cemetery in my home town. I live very close by. I could visit their grave all the time if I wanted to, but I never do. I am there maybe once a year to clean it before All Saint’s Day, but other than that, I never go. It just doesn’t mean anything to me. It is literally a dead place. There are no good memories there, just memories of funerals and grieving. I don’t feel close to them there. But I have some very ordinary things in my home that harbour so many wonderful memories and that I truly love. When I look at these things, or when I use them, I feel very close to my parents, as if they are still with me.
Here are some of the things of my mom I cherish.