Today would have been my mother’s 73rd birthday.
One year ago she was fighting cancer. At the time, we didn’t know it was stage 4 appendiceal cancer, but we knew it was bad. I don’t remember what I gave my mother for her birthday, and it really doesn’t matter. She didn’t need anything. What she desired was healing, but we don’t always get what we want. I knew in my heart she was dying. Four months later, she took her last breath.
In the past few days, I have shared in the sorrow of others who have lost loved ones: for one friend, the shock of a one-week window between cancer diagnosis and death of someone dear to her; an agonizing night of seizures followed by death of a beloved dog for another.
So many grieving hearts, so many walking wounded, so many haunted eyes in faces we see every day… and in the midst of it all, here is Valentine’s Day — a day in which we celebrate love.
within a season of grief
mysteries of life