After my father passed away, the grief was so immense that I couldn’t bring myself to return to my hometown. Every memory was too painful, so I buried myself in work, creating a safe distance from the past. My mother would come to visit me, and I was grateful to avoid the place that held so much heartache. But as time went on, a feeling of guilt began to grow. I knew I had to face my father’s memory properly, so my husband and I made the trip back home. Our first stop was the cemetery.
Walking toward my father’s grave felt like moving through a thick fog of sadness. I knelt down, tracing the letters of his name on the cold granite, tears falling freely. It was in that moment of raw emotion that my husband gently pointed something out. Just a few feet away was another headstone. My eyes focused, and my blood ran cold. Carved into the stone was my own name. A childhood photo of me, beaming with innocence, was placed right beside it. I felt the world tilt. This wasn’t a dream; it was real, and it was horrifying.
In a daze, I called my mother. Her reaction was calm, almost resigned. She explained that after my father died, she felt like she had lost me too because I had withdrawn so much. In her deep loneliness, she had purchased the plot next to my father and placed a headstone with my name on it. It was her way of coping, she said, a symbolic place to mourn the daughter she felt was already gone. Her explanation was heartbreaking, but it also sent a chill through me. Why had she never mentioned this during her visits? Why had she pretended everything was normal?
We drove to her house, and my unease grew with every familiar turn. When we arrived, she welcomed us warmly, but inside, I found a small shrine dedicated to me—complete with candles and fresh flowers. It was then I understood this was more than grief; it was a deep fixation. I gently but firmly told her it had to stop. We talked for a long time, and I suggested she move closer to me so we could rebuild our relationship in the world of the living, not among memories and stones. She agreed. We had the headstone removed and took down the shrine together. It was a difficult journey, but that shocking discovery ultimately helped us both heal and find our way back to each other.
