Before Christmas my sister and I went to the cemetery to see the basket we ordered for our parents' grave. From the car we could see it had been delivered but it was when we walked up to the grave, when we made that walk up the hill and stood where we stood together in April and said good-bye, that we saw that we were not the only ones who missed her. Not the only ones who think of her. Not the only ones who still care that she is gone. Resting beside the pine branches and red flowers was chocolate. Two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups to be exact. We know who left them, one of Mom's favorites. In this season of gifts, this season of shopping, this season of wrapping and tagging and baking and delivering, we received a great gift, this unexpected gift of love for our mother. The power of this candy, this chocolate, was immediate and now remains a part of our story, part of our mother's story.
Gifts come in all sizes and shapes and colors. Gifts come in the mail, or from the mall or down the chimney on Christmas Eve. Gifts come from obligation or tradition or expectation. A gift of chocolate, this gift of chocolate came from love. Love of a woman who lived simply and loved in the same way, simply. As simple as a piece of chocolate.
