It’s been eighteen years today since I held my mother’s hands as she took her last breath. Eighteen years since I heard her say her final words: “God is good.” Eighteen years since I picked up the bible as I heard the death rattle and read to her the Book of Psalms.
And after all these years, it’s suppose to be easier. I’m not suppose to cry or even be angry because there has been enough time to bring about acceptance of it all. But I don’t know — it just all still seems so unfair that she was taken from me, my sister, the rest of the family and really the world all too soon.
So I trust that God will soon enough reveal to me his master plan because if I’m honest, after all these years, I don’t know and I’m tired – really bushed. I’m tired that I’ve had to be so brave. I’m tired that I walk this earth alone. Sure there are people around me who love me, but without my mother’s love and guidance, life just seems empty.
Christ! Is this too much truth? Maybe! But it’s still what I’m feeling. It’s all real and whereas I may have forgotten what happened to me last year, I remember every little detail surrounding my mother’s death. I can’t shake it. Maybe I’m not supposed to be able to.
Interestingly, when I saw the psychic last fall, my mother came through in the reading. This stranger, who didn’t know me, was able to reveal to me in great detail the circumstances surrounding my mother’s death — all in a matter of minutes. Furthermore, she went on to tell me that Mom was looking down on me being my guardian angel guiding me in the right direction and so I’m grateful for that. Also, that she is surrounded by family and friends who are all supportive and loving to her.
So yeah, while I hope to walk this earth for another fifty years at least, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to the day when I would see her in the afterlife. I have to believe that this is possible as there is still so much to say and share. I have to believe as I know this pain inside me won’t go away until I hold her hands again.