My Mom, who passed in 2002, is buried in the small town in Southern Illinois where I grew up. Every year before Mother's Day, I pull out my credit card, call a local florist and order flowers to be delivered to her gravesite. Frankly, it has become an obligatory ritual with little meaning, since I nor anyone else will see or enjoy the flowers; they simply set in the cemetery until they're cleared away. This year, rather than just "check off the box" for Mother's Day, my wife and I decided to take the time to pick out some flowers in person, arrange them ourselves (well, by my wife) and enjoy them here - where we can think of Mom every time we look at them. This morning I took a few pictures.
Jer