A couple weekends ago, my wife and I took Revan, our son, to a local lake.
When we got there, Revan decided all he wanted to do was pick up rocks and drop them into the water.
A minute or two into his rock-dropping adventure, a young girl came up and told us our son was cute.
We said thank you and continued to watch Revan drop rocks into the water.
A minute later, this girl comes over to us with a net full of rocks and says, “I wanna give him some rocks.”
She dumps the rocks she collected in front of Revan and then says she’ll be back with more.
I’m watching her do this, bringing net after net full of rocks to Revan so he can toss them into the lake.
As I’m watching her joyfully bring these rocks to Revan, I decide the proper thing to do is to thank her for her kind gesture to my son.
So I ask her her name.
Faster than an atom can spin around CERN, I’m in tears.
Marcella was my mom’s middle name.
My mom passed away in January, 2022 at the age of 59 from dementia.
Since that day, I’ve felt a simmering anger inside my soul.
Angry because she’ll never get to see my son grow up.
Angry because I can’t call her and show her that he can walk or talk or dance.
Angry that I can’t call her to ask for advice when I feel clueless about what to do.
I have been so angry for 2 years (secretly).
But as the tears flooded my eyes, and the anger began to rise, I heard a voice deep inside: my mom’s.
She said “I’m always here Robbie, watching him play.”
Every day for two years that’s all I’ve wanted to do: to FaceTime my mom and show her her grandson playing.
But in that moment a few weeks ago, I felt a sense of peace I have longed for for months.
This young girl was a messenger from my mom.
She was an avatar of my mother’s soul.
And for this one moment I had the sense that I was watching my mom play with my son.
It was everything my heart’s needed.
She was reminding me that she’s always here to watch him play, even if she can’t physically be there.
But it was also a reminder from my mom as well to cherish these little moments, to be present.
Because the more present I am with him, the more I can feel her there.