I’m sitting here watching my little five-year-old grandson play with his toys.
Everyone is gone but him and me. He’s oblivious to my pain. He’s absorbed in his own world, just like a five-year-old should be. He looks at me and giggles and I smile.
How can I smile the night before I look on my mother’s face one last time?
The funeral is tomorrow. How am I going to do this?
I’ve done really good today, too good maybe. Does that make me uncaring? Am I insulting her?
God promises peace in the worst of times and this is most definitely the worst of times. I’m glad my little guys are here. Maybe looking on their faces will help me keep it together.
I wonder how anyone does this. Says goodbye with such finality.
A dear friend of mine just lost her sister the day before my mother died. We’re both Christian women who know God will sustain us in this loss. But we both agreed we still want them with us.
Such is the selfishness that plagues us all.
And yet it occurs to me, it’s a good thing to feel this pain. Wouldn’t it be awful to lose a mother and feel nothing? I should add my mother loved me with her whole heart. I told her once years ago, that I would never desert her, no matter what and that I would be with her to the end.
I was. To the very end.