This Easter ends a very special journey for me. It began last Easter with a gathering of my family. I didn't go to mass that day as up until that time I only went when I felt the spirit moved me. I had all the God in my life that I needed. Easter with my family is always enjoyable, as any holiday we get together. My Mother and I had a fierce competition in Wii bowling. Then my family played cards for quarters. Mom clean our clocks. She also asked me to take a picture of her from above with her head back, as we joked about how it made our skin smooth out, making us look younger.
A few short weeks later my journey took an unexpected turn. Summoned by a phone call to the emergency room, we spent the day in vigil at the bedside of our unconscious Mother. My path took a drastic turn as I witnessed Mom's journey end.
From there I wandered through the dark abyss of grief. Going through the motions of everyday life in a fog of uncertainty and loss. One bit of comfort that came to me was the support from my Mother's friends and family in the form of several very kind mass offerings. We traveled to many area churches. Each time I tried to make sense of Mom's much too early demise. Each time I was drawn into the celebration of the Eucharist and the ritual and symbolism to which I was raised. Mom was gone, but she left me a map to follow.
When I was a young boy in school, Mom would often put a surprise in my lunch bag. I couldn't help but smile when I would find a special treat in the form of candy, or cookies, or a little note of encouragement. Now that Mom had gone, I would continue to find little notes she left for me in the form of memories long forgotten. I would recall her showing me how to hold my hands in prayer. Helping me to learn the 'Our Father' and the 'Hail Mary'. I remembered how she encouraged our involvement in church activities. She would explain the meaning of why we do the things we do as we helped her change candles, fill the holy water fonts, and wipe down the pews at St. Mark's church. The memories and lessons were tucked away in us to be found years later when we needed them. And we needed them now.
The special masses eventually ended. But the peace I found in church became such a part of my life that I started to find myself being "moved by the spirit" each week. Mom was guiding my hands in prayer to help me move on without her. After 40 years, I began to experience the path of Christ in a way I could never imagine. I learned to give comfort to strangers, hope to those who mourn, and to set an example for those who lost their way. For the first time I have experienced Lent in the way I was supposed to. Through sacrifice and passionate devotion. The Jesus Christ who I always knew as the figure on the crucifix, became a constant presence in my life. A daily companion. A teacher. A friend.
Easter Sunday this year will be bitter sweet. Moms not here. Instead I awake to find one more Easter basked prepared for me by her with love. While Mom's death came too soon, it came at a time of year that she would have chosen. As we prepare to mark the one year anniversary of her passing with a family gathering at mass, we are fortunate to be reminded of the promise of eternal life. We are reminded of the suffering of Christ and his resurrection. We are reminded that when life on earth ends, the kingdom of heaven begins. Each year the pain of her passing will be preceded by the reminder of Easter's promise. As a child my Mom guided my hands to prayer. When she left this world, she placed my hands in the care of Christ and sent me on my way. Your Mother never really leaves you. She just gives you space to grow until you see her again. And the promise of Christ tells me I will. Alleluia!
No comments:
Post a Comment