My mother passed away in late September—a heart-breaking loss for me and our family. My head knows no one lives forever, but my grief at the news was more than I was prepared for.
I’ve read that when one is close to death the veil between the living and those who have gone before is thin. Was my mother joyful at seeing her husband who had preceded her sixteen years earlier? I have hope but can never know. Never.
This thought led to more “nevers”. I’ll never make and send her cards again. I’ll never have our weekly call again. I’ll never hear about her childhood again. These losses are so hard to bear.
Yet, as I grieved I had much to be grateful for. First and foremost, how
wonderful my siblings, niece, and nephew are. From our mother’s final
breath to the moment her soul soared free, they involved me every day in
all aspects of her memorial. (Covid kept me from traveling.)
Through FaceTime I didn't miss a single sentence or scene during her final service. I miss you, Mom. And most of all, I'm so grateful for the ninety-one years we were blessed with your love.
|Mom on her wedding day|