It hardly seems fair to speculate upon the frailty of life without feeling breath's intangible necessity linking us to the life forces that keep us upon the Earth. My mother's life on Earth is a song. A song worth singing is a song indeed, and the melodies, the counter melodies that formed the bonds between mother and child begs the question, "Do the ties that bind cinch in the slight pinch of death and remain connected to us vibrant on Earth when Mommy is gone and dead?"
Reflecting life as Mommy has is a sound we've all known and identified in myriad ways. But feeling her death as a muffled sound I, as her first born, grasped the simplicity of the act. But once peering into the window of Mommys' awareness I saw so many things I cannot contain, but for fleeting moments knowing they are her moments, her life's quick revelations that rise and fall in quick succession later to assemble alongside others ready to tell her the stories of her passing days before she died with what she did and gave to life. What she saw and who came to visit and love her in spirit and in the truth of their presence will come to her recollection on the other side of memory loss. And what is gained, or returned on the other side of the grave to Mommy when Clarity lays claim to her senses with a new sense of being present with all she has espoused in her life, her mothering, and her being present in the Lord she worshiped the whole of her life!
Mommy's last days are the same as all her days. They feel the same. Their difference is upon and of the substance of who we are in the moments with her remembering what she felt like all our lives, and now vulnerable and precious, more precious as her life changes within her the life forces she created and developed and enhanced has become worthy of transition into the next world, or worlds she will visit or be a part of.
"What becomes of brokenness in a lifetime?" It heals, if one is wise enough to let it happen, and becomes part of forgiveness.
"What becomes of love, and the love given, received, developed and cherished all of one's life upon death?" It stands to live as a force of Nature and in the the nature of the people and plants, and Earth touched by the love of our lives.
"What will become of Mommy when she dies?" The answer is the reverse of the question she often asked herself concerning her young children. The answer lies in how her life has lived, sung, and later heralded by all who touched her, and whom she touched in return as a friend, confidant, wife, sister, daughter and early on as a bride who stood, as she does now, at a threshold illuminated by the possibilities of what is next.
"What happens to sons who've lost their mother?" They become better men.
- Gregory E. Woods, first-born son
2.16.13
My mother's picture
