Easter Sunday had a powerful new meaning for me ever since my adult son Jason died in a car accident. I knew Jay was alive and happy in heaven, and that I would see him again one day. But as I looked at Jason\u2019s picture carved into the headstone that Sunday, I wished for more.<\/p>\n
For nearly 30 years I\u2019d been his mother. I\u2019d talked to him, listened to him, helped him, taken care of him. All the things mothers do. Now he was gone.<\/p>\n
I laid roses in front of the headstone. The plot was already covered in tributes: a heart wreath from Valentine\u2019s Day, wind chimes I brought in the spring. I took good care of the grave, but it was a poor substitute. Show me how to be a mother now that my son is with you, Lord.<\/em><\/p>\n My son Eric helped me to my feet. \u201cI\u2019m going to plant some flowers here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know you gardened, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t. But I\u2019m going to learn.\u201d I had to care for something. That\u2019s what mothers do.<\/p>\n Eric pointed down the row of headstones. \u201cLook.\u201d A pair of Canadian geese walked over the grass. It wasn\u2019t unusual to see geese in this cemetery, but I\u2019d never seen them come so close. \u201cThey were only a few feet away,\u201d Eric said as we got back in the car. \u201cThey kept looking at us. I wonder what got them so interested.\u201d<\/p>\n By the following weekend I\u2019d forgotten all about the geese. My mind was on my gardening project. I planned to find a professional and ask for advice. First I stopped at the cemetery to take another good look at the grave site, maybe get some measurements so that I could describe it to the people at the nursery.<\/p>\n I hoped to have something planted by Jay\u2019s thirtieth birthday, which this year fell the day before Mother\u2019s Day. How will I ever get through it?<\/em> I thought as I approached Jay\u2019s grave.<\/p>\n Someone had beaten me to the spot! A Canadian goose stood in front of the tombstone gazing at Jay\u2019s picture. What on earth is she doing?<\/em> I stepped closer, careful not to scare her. That\u2019s when I noticed the decorations from the grave all piled together in a heap. The goose was standing on top of them!<\/p>\n Had she moved them herself? What would a goose want with wind chimes and silk flowers? Why had she made such a mess?<\/p>\n The valentine\u2019s wreath lay face up on the ground. Everything else\u2014ribbons, trinkets, notes\u2014was inside it, mixed in with grass and downy feathers. Even the wind chimes were tucked among the silk flowers. The wreath was buttressed on either side by the two angel statues I\u2019d placed in front of the headstone.<\/p>\n At the top of the pile was the cross from Palm Sunday. The goose was standing on it, still as a statue. She didn\u2019t move, even when I came even closer. She did, however, let out an eerie hiss.<\/p>\n The hiss was answered by a furious honking. The second goose\u2014her mate\u2014stalked across the grass, flapping his wings. The meaning was clear: Get away from her!<\/em> He chased me back a safe distance.<\/p>\n That\u2019s when I realized what I was seeing. The goose on Jay\u2019s grave was making a nest. She was going to be a mother. A wave of emotion washed over me at the thought: wonder, excitement, sadness, envy.<\/p>\n I remembered preparing a room for my own children when I was pregnant. Jay\u2019s crib might have had a musical mobile and stuffed animals instead of goose down and old petals, but the idea was the same. She was making a place to care for her children. And out of all the graves in the cemetery, she\u2019d chosen my son\u2019s.<\/p>\n Obviously there would be no planting today. I drove home and looked up all I could about Canadian geese. It looked like I wouldn\u2019t get anywhere near Jay\u2019s grave for weeks until the goslings hatched and they marched into the lake for their first swim.<\/p>\n To my surprise, I didn\u2019t mind. I couldn\u2019t wait to see Mother Goose and her nest again.<\/p>\n I returned to the cemetery the very next day. I found a spot far enough away that Father Goose didn\u2019t attack, but close enough that I could see Mother Goose on her nest.<\/p>\n I know how you feel,<\/em> I thought as I settled down in the grass. You\u2019re nervous but excited too. Most of all, you want to keep your babies safe and happy. You want the best for them. That\u2019s what mothers do.<\/em><\/p>\n Beyond the gravestone, Father Goose watched me. He clearly wasn\u2019t so sure about having me so close. But I wasn\u2019t going to let a goose keep me away from Jay\u2019s grave. \u201cYou\u2019re not the only one protective of your children,\u201d I told Mother Goose. \u201cI can be pretty fierce too when it comes to my babies.\u201d<\/p>\n The goose gazed back at me in silence, but I felt she understood.<\/p>\n Over the coming weeks I spent more and more time at the cemetery, always keeping a safe distance from the expectant mother sitting on her clutch of eggs. I told her about my sons: Jay\u2019s first day of kindergarten, Eric\u2019s high school graduation.<\/p>\n Maybe Mother Goose didn\u2019t understand the words I said, but I believe she knew something of the feelings underneath. Surely God understood. When I spent time with Mother Goose, I could feel him close. Him and Jay.<\/p>\n I e-mailed pictures of the goose family to my friends. Many came to see for themselves.<\/p>\n