…you slept. And then you awakened in paradise. Of this I’m certain.

There are moments in life, and not often enough, I believe, when the tangible presence of eternity hits us between our head and our heart and we must face the reality that we will die. 

I was sad and shocked I wasn’t there the moment it happened (though I wonder if perhaps I WAS as we worshipped together earlier that morning, me singing and dancing while you slept peacefully until you defecated and I walked away to tell the nurse, kissed your forehead and made a short getaway to see a sweet friend for coffee…all the while never checking your breathing as I’d been doing for days to note whether it was slowing down). Though I was shocked you were gone, I was delighted that you finally were free.  This time, I wept as I kissed you on your forehead, told you how happy I was that you were home and how deeply I loved you.

Your passing, Mom, seemed more like a stroll down a long hallway with conversations we hadn’t been able to enjoy for years. You lingered with me four days in peaceful rest as I read to you, reminisced and just enjoyed your presence.

After I got back to TX, I sat with my journal to record my thoughts and realized I’d made an entry the night before you passed away:

“This moment’s priority is being with my mother-in-law.  Soon, she will exchange this life for immortality and no one should be left alone who has family.”

You may have been aware of my conversation with God early Sat. morning, asking Him on your behalf to take you home THAT day, but I don’t think I completely expected such a quick answer.  I’d even asked your grandchildren to pray. I couldn’t understand THEN why it was taking you so long to go.  As I sit here now, weeks later, I know.

It’s been over two weeks since your departure, but for you, I imagine it feels like you’ve always been there as you peer over the banister of heaven with all the saints, cheering me on to love and good deeds.

 

I miss you and just tonight, I pulled out a baby book you made for the twins.  Your kindness still keeps pouring in and sadly, I never noticed before now.

Please forgive me for taking you for granted, fussing over things that mean nothing in light of who you are now and who you’ve always been:  the mother of my Love and a beautiful woman of God.

Thank you, mom, for giving me, your only daughter, the last four days of your life here on Earth. 

 

I will always love you.

Daune