Third Row

Sometimes I tell myself I really should do it, that it would be a kind of protective amulet to ensure my mother’s long life.

My perfectionism nags at me, demanding resolution here, but nothing about this is perfect.

The truth is, I’d never seriously thought about buying a plot — not before the stroke. It just wasn’t a conversation my mother would have entertained. Our talks were about the royal family, the weather, and updates about the kids. Never mortality. My mother kept things pleasant and surface-level — she had a gift for small talk and a way of gently steering away from anything too heavy.

I don’t know what my mother would have wanted in a burial plot. Would location be something she’d care about in the afterlife? It’s hard to say. I’m not happy about being forced to do this with zero direction. And as her only child, I have to do it alone.