
My mom died at this exact time one year ago. 365 days ago I was awake for forty-four hours straight, so I didn’t miss out on one second of the life that was fading so fast. The day I watched my kids hold her, as their tears dropped onto her hands. The day I watched my brother and father stand helplessly over her, unable to fix this. The day I watched my husband take her hand from mine and focus on the monitors, so I could lay down for an hour. The day I pressed her soft hand to my forehead, vowing to never forget the coolness of her skin against mine, and sang to her the songs she sang to me as a child while she rocked me to sleep.
For much of this year I felt like my soul has left my body too. I do all the things I am supposed to do. I get out of bed, put on clothes, eat, breathe, work. But something is so deeply amiss…I am certain that part of my soul must have gone with her when she died.
Throughout this year of deep grieving I have been devastated, angry, questioning, drowning, and broken hearted.
I have learned that time does not, in fact, heal.
Only God heals.
In my darkness, in my sorrow, in the midst of crying out in anger and not understanding – there ran an underlying feeling of deceiving God, as I ricocheted all these questions and emotions against him. Where is my faith and trust if I question God’s plan?
Time and time again I cried out, imploring how much more I could take…how much longer did I have to endure this pain? I felt alone and abandoned by the One who was supposed to be holding me up.
Until, over time, I realized that her death had set me on a journey to grow in my faith. And I realized that every time I cried out, I was still crying out to Him. Darkness surrounded me, but His light was still there, and I never turned my back to Him. Every sob, every wail, every sound that escaped my body in grief and sorrow – I was calling out to God.
He did not abandon me. And even in my imperfect grief…questioning and blaming…He was patiently waiting. As long as I was still turning to Him with my hard to handle emotions, I was showing Him my trust and my faith. And throughout this year, I was able to deepen and repair my relationship with God. Because it is Him that I continue to seek – even when I am hauling all of my emotional trauma with me.
My life has forever been changed by the death of my mother. And, consequently, my life has forever been changed by the relationship I now have with my Father. And what a gift it has been.
Mom, I see you standing at the foot of His throne when He asks you – “What have you done with what you have been given?”
I see you turn and sweep your hand over us, presenting us to God, as you say, “Just look at what I did…”
Through God’s ever-flowing stream of grace, you brought us here. Not in a sense of sadness and grief, but in love and faith and trust. Through your influence and your love, your last act as my mother was to lead me closer to God. And now He sees the good you did with what you had been given.
Holding hands around the dinner table, gathered together one year after your death, we prayed…”Heavenly Father, thank you for the blessings you’ve bestowed upon us.” And to be able to speak those words, well, it must be music straight to His heart.
1 year. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days.
8,760 hours.
525,600 minutes.
31,536,000 seconds.
35,000,00 heartbeats echoing your love – moments stained with tears – and still carrying you with us.
I love you.
Ephesians 3:14-19 For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.



















