I had no notion that visiting my mother’s grave would completely change my life. However, that is precisely what transpired when I witnessed a stranger discarding the flowers I had lovingly placed there. I had no notion that this chance encounter would result in the startling realization that I had a sister I was unaware I had.
For weeks, I had been visiting the graves of my parents and laying fresh flowers on my mother’s grave. However, I kept discovering them gone, but my dad’s remained the same. It appeared as though they were being removed intentionally.
I arrived early one morning because I was determined to catch the culprit, and I noticed a woman carelessly discarding flowers from my mother’s grave. I approached her, feeling quite passionate. “What are you doing?” I inquired.
I was taken aback by her response. “Your mom wouldn’t mind sharing,” she replied, grinning at them. I was very taken aback by her next statement, though: “I’m her daughter too.”
I lost everything. Can it happen? Had my mother withheld from me such a profound secret? I assumed the woman in front of me was my sister, and she appeared to be as distressed as I was.
Even though I was still in shock, anger, and pain, the reality began to set in. However, I related to something she said. We were hurt by another bitter untruth that had been concealed from us for too long.
“But perhaps it’s not necessary for us to constantly harm one another.” My remarks lingered in the air like a blood-stained thin line between two strangers.
The burden of our common history began to fade as we stood there. We started exchanging stories and emotions. Over time, a sense of understanding and connection gradually replaced the hurt of the past.
I unexpectedly met someone and found a sister and a piece of myself in them. It would be difficult, but I had faith that we would overcome it together, moving forward step by step to move past the wounds of our common history.
