Breathe

In the middle of living my typical wife/mother life the other day in the middle of my typical wife/mother routine I suddenly I heard my mother's voice. A half-remembered memory, perhaps, fleeting, but very real pervaded my thoughts. I was arrested in the moment. Suspended, I stood, frozen. It was perhaps only a second or two, but for me time stopped. Then, tears came.The last time I actually heard my mother's sweet voice was almost three years ago after her surgery, which ultimately ended her life.

Grief is a funny thing. You move through the stages haltingly, hesitatingly. At times the darkness threatens to devour you, but eventually you move out of the fog of loss to a place where you collect your bearings, count your blessings, and cherish your memories as you pick up the threads of life and move on. Color again appears and your heart again begins to beat. You live and love and remember. But grief, although softened, and worn, like a polished river stone in your pocket will always be a part of you, and although you may forget for awhile, unconsciously at times you'll slip your hand in that pocket and suddenly remember, and feel, and mourn. And that's okay.

One of the Bible verses our family selected for Mom's funeral was Revelation 21:4. It says, "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Those words are incredibly comforting to me, for I know that these light and momentary troubles won't last forever. This place, as beautiful and wonderful and difficult and dark as it is, is not my forever home.

My tears were sweet that day. In the middle of my regular day, I remembered a much-loved voice. Yes, there was pain, but mostly there was gratitude and love and sweet remembrance for this precious lady. I am blessed by remembering and loving, and I will take my mother's love into my daily life and carry it with me as I love and care for my own children. And my mother's love will live on through me.