Today is the 20th anniversary of my mother’s death. I am feeling the grace of time – the promise of healing paid-in-full. When I remember those awful days, it still feels like a bad dream. (I thought I was so grown-up then…just 26. I think, in retrospect, her death was the end of my adolescence. It was a defining moment in the journey – for all of us, I think.) "Fresh" grief is the worst – an open-wound that just won’t stop bleeding. It requires every inner resource – every ounce of faith. Grief doesn’t seem to have an ending, but it does seem to recede - like big waves in the ocean that eventually turn to a tired, soft ripple. I have made friends with the grief that abides in my bones – the loss of her. So much has gone on without her and yet, over time, she has visited me in my thoughts and dreams. Perhaps, it is the certainty of faith – the knowledge that she IS – that has carried me to a safe shore. I can still hear her voice, see her smile and remember her touch. And, thanks to my siblings, I meet her anew as they each reveal a precious part of her to me. She comes close from time to time – as best they can in glory – and I tell her things. Twenty years in, grief is much easier to bear – almost a gift. Something inside me is the richer for having negotiated this sorrow. I am joined to her still through Christ and the love that never ends.
Blessings and love to you all…
- Sister Vicki
