My mom has died.
It’s surreal to write that statement.
It’s a statement I expected to write when I was older – maybe in my 50’s or 60’s with all of my adult children, her grandchildren, by my side to help reminisce about all the outlandish and ridiculous stories of “Hot TaMolly” or “Immy”.
However, here I am, 27 years old with a one year old baby girl and in 30 years all we’re going to have of my mom are faded memories and photographs.
I am sad. Terribly sad.
Like Christ at the graveside of Lazarus, I weep.
I keep waiting for a phone call that will never come. My ears are eagerly expecting my name in a subtle West Texas draw from a voice I won’t hear again until heaven. I deeply long for one last motherly embrace that will never be felt again on this earth. This breaks my heart.
I miss her so much already. I miss her smile, her joy and the way she gave me a hard time about everything, then quickly followed it up with, “sorry, I’m trying to work on my smart mouth” all the while wearing a mischievous smile.
In the midst of my grieving is muted rejoice. The tears of my grief are louder than the song of my rejoicing, but it exists nonetheless. My mom is cancer free, pain free and sin free (Rev. 21). She has entered into the joy of her Master where she has heard the beautiful words, “Well done good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:23). THAT is worthy of celebration, even during a time of great sadness.
There are no words to finish an entry like this, so I will borrow and edit the words Sarah Edwards wrote to her daughter after the passing of her husband.
What shall I say? A holy and good God has covered us with a dark cloud.
The Lord has done it. He has made me adore his goodness, that we had her so long. But my God lives and He has my heart.
O what a legacy my mother, and your friend, has left us! We are all given to God; and there I am, and love to be.