I had breakfast with a young woman whose mother died almost a year ago. She has faced many “first” holidays and events in the past 11 months. She still has a few to go.
She and I talked about our mothers, their profound influence on us, their lasting legacy that goes beyond the tangle. It was easier for her to talk today than it was months ago when she and I first met on the mutual ground of grief and loss.
We are glad to chat about these women we called “mother.” As we do it keeps the memories alive. And we want to remember this special person and have others remember her also.
We want to tell those yet to be born about the fun things we did with our mothers, about holiday traditions, about lessons we were taught and how they have influenced us.
I see joy returned to this young friend of mine. I wonder if she has fought for it the way I have when life was just plain hard and questions remained unanswered.
In the dark, we reach for the lighted candle of hope. Though its beam is small, it will show the way one tiny step at a time. We endure knowing others have traveled a similar path. And we are comforted by the greatest Someone who walks with us now and forever.
The dark night of the soul does indeed precede a sunrise. Though the night seems long and unending, the light will come. Day will break and the sun will shine again.
Even while we sorrow, we wait with hope. We wait for the new day, for the fresh grace. We wait knowing joy does indeed come in the morning.