That Stupid Little Dot.

I’m not the kind of person who usually lets the little things get to me. I know when to pick my battles. And I certainly don’t waste my energy on things I can’t change…not for too long anyway.

My mother is buried in the Rexburg, Idaho Cemetery. Her grave is an extra special place that brings me comfort, but it’s not the only place I feel her at. I feel her all around me whenever I take the time to ponder about her for any length of time.

But there is one thing that always rubs me the wrong way when I am fortunate enough to travel to my birth place and her resting ground and place flowers upon her headstone.

It’s that stupid little dot. The dot that doesn’t belong. The dot carved in stone. The dot that cost just a little more money. The dot that shouldn’t be there. The dot that represent so much more than a dot.

My mother’s birth name is:


But her headstone reads:


There it is. That stupid little dot. A dot that shouldn’t even matter. A dot that I should be able to surpass. But it’s there. Every single time. And as I visit her grave I focus on the positive. But there it is. That stupid little dot. Sitting there. Burned into the stone. And it’s been a goal of mine ever since I saw it, to replace it. I know it’s no small price to pay. But one day, I will replace it. With all the love in the world. To remove that stupid little dot that makes me cringe.

Because to me, that dot represents carelessness. Somebody somewhere disregarded her at that moment, sloppily picking out a headstone. Carelessly writing out her name, making an assumption that that dot even existed. As if my mother didn’t live 36 years with her name. As if it didn’t even matter. And maybe it shouldn’t. But to me, I owe my mother at least that. Respect. And I don’t even know whoever was responsible for that very preventable mistake. I have my ideas…but I don’t really want to know. It’s not so much who did it, or who didn’t look close enough before it was carved in stone, as much as I care that it happened. And that I’m going to erase it someday.

I’m going to do more than cover it with dirt each time I visit. I’m going to place an entirely different headstone down on her grave. Something I can be at peace with. 

I miss you mom. And I’m going to do this for you.


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