A tribute to you, Mother
You would laugh in embarrassment to know that I have written this to you for all to see but I can’t help but think it is all that I can give you of any worth. And so I write to you—and of you.
As children, we are foolish and naïve, unable to see the value of what we have until it begins to fade from the tightly clutched fingers of our hearts. And then we get an inkling—a small sampling of the treasure of what our lives have been.
We, your children, are opening our eyes to the prize that has been ours the whole of our time while you were among us. And it has only been in your dying that we have seen it for what it has truly been.
All who know you have seen the example you have been and have nodded their heads in open respect--for we children haven’t turned out too badly have we? And yet it was in your last weeks of trial where your true faith shone through. Your whole life was filled with firm and loving examples of the Christian walk. But it was in your dying that you showed the confidence in Christ spoken of so many times in the past. Your continued concern for the spiritual direction of your family marked you as being beyond the average soul—in spite of overwhelming pain and the shock of a quick and final diagnosis.
And so we all—the family, the hospital staff, the few strangers who heard murmurings of the brave lady in room 114—watched you as the husk that was your outward self faded while the brilliant light that was the true you, burst through worn seams and faded coverings. We shook our heads in awe as you showed us the truth of your beliefs in the peace and contentment presented. And we were left empty—and yet inspired.
Not one of us will ever look at dying without thinking of you and knowing that the chance of living beyond dying is a real and vibrant thing. You showed us that. You opened the heavens and allowed us a brief glimpse into what was in store for you. You made us yearn to join you and share it with you. And you gave us courage to face the days ahead without you.