Mom ... Free At Last?

I was reflecting on my Mom's passing a bit more.

She died on Wednesday, August 22, at about 5:45 a.m. I was privileged to be with her in her final moments. She died at home, as was her wish. She appeared to be very peaceful.

Still, her loss is devastating. There's just no other word for it. And while crying and crying and crying, I cursed God, man, and the universe almost all day Wednesday and Thursday.

Fortunately, God, Who Loves me even when I am doing my best to drive Him away, just held me and loved me while I wailed and screamed and called Him everything I could think of. Jesus and His Mother, Our Lady of Sorrows, seemed to cry and weep more than me. And seemed to remind me that Job proves beyond doubt that God is on the side not of those who try to make out that "everything's OK", like Job's "Comforters", but rather on the side of Job and those who cry out at the pain of the seering wound in the side of the universe, the gash lanced into the Side of Christ on the Cross.

And the loss of my Mom is simply more than I can bear. But then the horror of the slash across the Body of Christ is more than anyone can really bear isn't it. The Crucifixion is something far more than even Christ could bear. Yet we are all called to take up our Crosses and Follow Him.

The Sacred Text doesn't really require us to find the Cross bearable, does it? It only calls us to bear the Cross, bearable or not. Fortunartely He who can bear all things leads us on the Way of the Cross.

I'm sure no Job, but when he looks around the earth and seems to see it devoid of any vestige of God, I can only bow my head and gulp: because that is certainly how it feels very often even right now.

But like Job "I know that my Redeemer lives, and at last He will stand upon the earth."

In the meantime, I leave Mom's teacup ready and her packet of Earl Grey tea beside it ready for her; though she is not here. And the dog keeps looking in through the back window, whining and looking for her; but she is not here.

I did get some relief on Saturday by God's grace.

I was taking the dog for a walk in the park. And I was crying and crying. For Mom and I have been taking this dog for a walk every morning for so long. Since Mom lost her mobility, "walking the dog" has meant that Mom has sat in the car, or sometimes I pick her up and put her in her wheelchair in the park, and she watches with a smile on her face as the dog and I walk across the grass under the trees. Anyway, I was walking the dog ... with no Mom watching ... and crying and crying ... and suddenly had a strong feeling that the dog and I were walking with Mom beside us. I know, I know; I said this was just a feeling, not a vision, not a "ghost", nothing of the sort. But I really had the sense all the same that Mom was walking - free of her wheelchair, free of her scoliosis and osteoarthritis and all her pain and suffering - walking free and easy, laughing as the dog romped before us. Free ... "If the Son therefore shall set you free, you shall be free indeed" ... and I really felt like Jesus was walking with us, laughing and wathcing the dog carrying on. Then I felt like Mary was there and all the Saints ... all strolling boldly and easily, even jauntily, across the grass, playing with the dog.

Of course where Christ is, there is the Body of Christ; where the Body of Christ is, there is the Church; where the Church is, there is the Communion of Saints. So if Christ is there ... and where is He not? ... then it's really true, isn't it: the park through which little Charles Delacroix was walking with this dog was almost swarming with Jesus and Mary and Saints. And (I truly Hope) my Mom might be there too.

Free of her suffering, free of her disabilities, walking, walking with the dog and me. Free.

Well, a few hours later, I went to Confession, and the next day, Sunday, I went to Mass, and on Sunday night I was able to sit watching "As Time Goes By", a British sitcom that Mom and I always loved to watch together.

And now I'm wondering if Jesus and Mary and Mom and the Saints were all sitting there with me watching and smiling at the wry humor on the tube?

In any event, the thought of my Mom free at last from her horrible suffering really does help.

And also I take very great comfort in God's Providence that arranged that her death should take place on the Feast of Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth; and that her funeral should take place on the Feast of St Monica.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, and St Monica, mother of St Augustine, you who are among the most wonderful of mothers, please pray for my own dear Mother ... and for me.

Amen.