Today marks the 75th anniversary of my late parents’ wedding day, March 20, 1948.

In their memory and honor, I re-post this essay from 2008.

Here’s to you, Mom and Dad!
Love you, Mary

Some of the best things in life happen when we least expect them. We’re on a path focused on a predetermined objective when suddenly, by accident, we stumble upon something we never anticipated. This newfound discovery, which has nothing to do with our original preoccupation, proves to be especially valuable and even of overriding importance. This phenomenon is referred to as serendipity.

The term “serendipity” was actually derived by English author Horace Walpole in 1754 from an ancient fairy tale, The Three Princes of Serendip. Serendip was the original name for the country of Ceylon, now called Sri Lanka, an island off the southeast coast of India. In this story, three princes were sent out on a journey by their father, the king of Serendip, to gain empirical experience. This they acquired from making many incidental discoveries of value along the way.

Recently, I experienced serendipity. I was looking through a closet, searching for a pair of earrings, when suddenly an old letter tucked underneath some boxes dropped to the floor. How the letter happened to be in that particular location, I haven’t a clue. I could not recall ever having seen it before. Handwritten by my mother, it was dated March 19, 1949, the day before my parents’ first wedding anniversary and several years before I was born.

Addressed to my aunt and uncle, the letter–complete with its three-cent stamp–described my mother’s daily activities, which revolved around my father, his medical practice, their blissful married life together, and exciting preparations for their expected new baby, who turned out to be a boy, my older brother.

This letter was a telling vignette, for within its lines could be read the very essence of my mother. Her sweet and gentle spirit, bright and affirming, was palpable in her uplifting thoughts and cheerful words. Her unmistakable handwriting—steady, even, neat, flowing straight across the page—evoked a feeling of calm and serenity with which I always associate Mom. Through tears of emotion, I basked in the moment.

My mother wrote, “It doesn’t seem a year, although the date is tomorrow, that we were married. I can truthfully say it has been the happiest year of my life. I’m more in love with Ken now than on our wedding day, and I thought that morning I couldn’t love him more. The feeling of such well-being is beyond description.”

My mother passed away in 2003. She and my father had been very happily married for 55 years. Mom was a brilliant light for Dad, as well as for my brother and me and all those who knew her. She was my best friend and counselor. When she died, my mother left an enormous void. Even now, almost five years after her passing, when challenges arise or something exciting happens, I yearn to hear her words on the subject.

In the past few weeks, in anticipation of a significant milestone for my father–his 90th birthday–I’d been wishing more than ever that I could know what my mother would say about it all. Through her letter, I felt that wish had been granted. It was almost as if Mom had spoken to me. Her message was crystal-clear: she is still with us in spirit, she loves my Dad and all of us eternally, and all is well.

If I hadn’t been looking through that closet that morning, I wouldn’t have found that letter from Mom. Though I never located the lost earrings, through the power of serendipity, I discovered something of far greater value to me—the sustaining, loving presence of my mother.