My best friend buried her father this week. And ironically it came just three days short of a year that my very own mother passed away. It was exactly one year ago today that my mother gave up her fight against the intruder. It has been a remarkably fast year. In many ways it seems like she just passed away but then in many ways it seems like she's been gone forever... forever since I heard her sweet voice cheering me on in the issues of life and always -- always
being in my corner... forever since I touched her face or hugged her neck... forever since I could just pick up the phone to share the latest news. There is a hole in my heart that no one else can ever fill.
It's funny how the heart can grieve and rejoice at the very same time. Do you know what I mean? I rejoice that my mother has gone on to a much better place -- her forever home -- and that she is no longer suffering from the cancer that invaded her body. I know she lives on still in a place where there is no pain or anguish or bad news or disease. This is the peace that heals my heart when my heart is overcome by sadness. When I least expect it, the grief rears its ugly head and I succumb once more. I ache with the absence of my mother...the person who was my first sustainer of life and comforter, my first friend and confidante. She was the one in my life on whom I knew I could always depend. We had our ups and downs and occasional spats, but it hurt too much to be at odds for long, so we always made up. I ache when I pick up the phone to call and tell her the latest and cutest thing that her great-grandchildren are doing or what they've accomplished in school, when I remember she is no longer there to enjoy it with me. The grief tries to slide in when I'm not paying attention or when I've let down my guard.. It might be a picture of a birthday cake she baked for me or a special gift she gave me. It might be when I passed by the birdhouse or the wicker bench I inherited. Sometimes I resist the grief successfully and sometimes I give in to its sway. I've found that it's okay to give in sometimes. The tears have a cleansing property about them and they serve as a release from the emptiness that one feels when they lose their mother. And then finally, the tears give way once more to rejoicing.
I rejoice that I had my mom into her eighties. I rejoice that we were good friends all my life. I rejoice when I think of the hard-working, supreme-loving, always-passionate woman that exemplified my mother. I rejoice that she got to see all six of her great-grandchildren and hold each and every one of them. I rejoice that I was blessed to have a mother who loved me so much. I rejoice that she was a strong woman of faith, never letting the issues and problems of life get her down for too long. I rejoice because I had the great honor of knowing my mother.
Mother, this is the anniversary of one of the hardest days of my life. Every single year as long as I live on May 1st I will reflect on you, your life, and all that you meant to me. I will reflect on how how your supreme love still plays an active role in my life. I know that as time passes, I will have to work harder to remember your voice, your touch, your laughter, your ways. Time has a way of dulling the memory, of clouding how things were. And it also has a way of easing the pain that is so raw in the beginning. I'm thankful to live in a day where I have your voice recorded and I have pictures of your face. Those things will help me to remember your attributes and how feisty you were at times. But I need nothing to help me remember your phenomenal love. Nothing can ever make it fade or take it away or lessen the extreme effect it still has on my life. Your love transcends time and will forever be sealed in my heart.
Posted by CC
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