My sister and I always take turns arriving bright and early on Sunday mornings at the care home where mom lives, to help her get into her ‘Sunday Best.’ Mom’s been donning her ‘Sunday Best’ for over 80 years now, which really means she takes the time to put some colour on her cheeks, add a bit of lipstick, and make sure her blouse matches nicely with her slacks. Oddly, we know this to be a Sunday ritual, but have never thought to question the reason behind it.
This Sunday, as I helped mom choose just the right outfit, I asked her … “Who are you dressing up for mom?”
“For my little sister,” she said with a coy smile.
I thought for a moment, a little worried that mom’s mind might be slipping. “But you don’t have a little sister, remember? Just your brother Joe.”
Mom sat back down in her chair and told me that when she was five years old, her mom gave birth at full term to stillborn baby girl. That night, my mom said she had a dream that this little girl in a beautiful white dress and shiny shoes appeared at her bedside and told her, “Don’t worry, we are sisters. I will visit you every Sunday, as long as you live.”
My mom was perfectly serene as she told me this story. I took her hand and could literally feel the love she had for this sister who she always dressed up to meet on Sundays.
“Have you ever seen her on a Sunday?” I asked.
“I see her every Sunday, in every kind face I meet,” she replied.