I'm stretching a bit out of my comfort zone here, but wanted to share with you all something I wrote in my journal the morning after Mom passed, perhaps as a part of my own grief process:
My mother died on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Time of death: 12:30 pm
It was Autumn, which in Texas means simply that it was not as hot, and the skies were very blue that day, without a single cloud. I noticed this, paid special attention, wondering how God would set the stage for Mom's crossing to Him. I know He thought about such things for the simple reason that I did, and how could I be more compassionate, more sensitive to my mother's circumstance than God is? I liked the clear skies, the lack of wind, the not too hot. Mom hated weather of any kind--even a stiff breeze could keep her home when she had errands to run. And so He made it very still, and swept the sky of every hint of rain. The sun was high in all his glory, the welcoming door flung open wide. He was ready for his little girl to come home.
I was happy for her.
I did not know this at first, not until several hours after she had passed and I could find a name for the tears rolling down my cheeks. But I was very happy for my mother's death. Not the death itself--that part is sad beyond explaining, like seeing your mother disappear behind a door as it closes, knowing it will never be opened again. But my loss is her joy, and this is what makes me happy, because I know what lives on the other side, and, more importantly, Who.
The dementia that for so many months had ravaged her mind and stole her dignity, is gone. Her mind is clear again. And she can hear! My mother, who had been deaf for decades, and hated every second of that state...can hear again. Who knows what a joy that must be to her.
No more dizziness, or weakness in her limbs. No more disease at all. My Father's little girl, the one who was my mother here on earth, is finally free. Finally home.
At last, she knows.
And I am happy for her.
This is Mom's song to me--a poem of her that has become very dear in recent weeks and now, I know, will be with me for life.
She wrote me a letter after her death,
and I remember a kind of happy light
as I sat by the rose tree
on her old bench by the back door
so surprised to receive it
wondering what she would say
looking up before I could open it
and laughing to myself in silent expectation.
it is time for me to leave you
the words you are used to hearing,
are no longer mine to give.
You can only hear those words of motherly
affection now from your own mouth
and only for those who stand
motherless before you.
As for me I must forsake adulthood
and be bound gladly to a new childhood.
You must understand
this apprenticeship demands
of me an elemental innocence
from everything I have ever held in my hands.
I know your generous soul
is well able to let me go
You will in the end be happy to know
my God was true
and that after so many years
of loving you so long
I find myself in the wide, infinite mercy of being
P.S. All of your intuitions were true.
(David Whyte – A great poet. I highly recommend his work. Get it here.)