Tonight is Goodnight’s White Dress event.
After all these years, the signs are still perceptible to me. She gets nervous. She gets cranky. She gets sassy. Underneath it all, however, she’s just wishing her mother could be here with us to attend the event. When she finally verbalizes her thoughts, I feel no more power to soothe her than I did when she was younger.
“We just have to go with Mama in our hearts. . . and in your ear lobes and around your neck,” is the best I can muster.
Gram: Mama wants you to wear her pearls. They will look very nice with your dress.
GN looked down and was silent when she heard my reply. “It’s not the same, you know. She doesn’t get to give them to me.”
Gram: But she did get to give them to you. She just had to give everything to you all at once, through me, to be passed on to you at certain times. This is one of those times. You see . . . . . . . . I think Mama spent her illness trying to think of ways she could be with you after she was gone. She thought about these things, about you, about what she was going to miss, and yet she looked ahead to your events and special days. This is one of those special days. So let’s make it special, ok?
GN: Ok. Thank-you, Grammy. I still miss her.
Gram: That’s normal. You’re normal. And tonight will be just fine. You know something? It looks like our seats are in nearly the same spot as when your mother had her same event.
Gram: Yes, Honey. I saw the seating chart.
GN: That’s cool, Grammy!
It is cool. I ponder on it a moment. The odds of us sitting in nearly the same place are quite astounding. With 2000 seats available and an additional 2000 for standing room, the chance that we would be assigned to roughly the same area would be an interesting math problem . . . . but not for tonight. I think I will choose to believe that there is no math involved at all, just serendipity in the form of an Angel, a white dress, and some pearls that reach across time.