The sun is coming up on a new day. I sit in my parent’s house listening to my mothers labored breaths. It is good to see the sun, although the rain of yesterday was needed. I think we all need to have the rain wash away our pain, yet my mom still clings to life lying next to my dad. I have accepted death as part of life and welcome it in my mom’s case. What makes me angry is the dying. When will the torture of this world let my mother go on to peace in heaven with God? I can’t imagine my life with out faith, I cannot believe such a good woman would suffer and not be rewarded with the gates of Heaven. Maybe my mother is suffering her purgatory here surrounded by our love, so when the time comes there is no delay in seeing the peace of heaven. I guess that is a good way to view suffering on earth, especially for the good ones. All souls have sins, in my mother’s case, very few ... But maybe because of her good heart she can travel through the cleansing of purgatory with the strength and love of her family at her side. She said she wanted to die on September eighteenth, her birthday. What a beautiful thought, to want to be born again on your birthday, but this time to be born into everlasting life with God.
The house has stirred. Now I sit here with my mom, hoping, praying. Dad opened the window and the cool fall air floats in. Her sleep is mostly peaceful. Every so often she will make a noise as if she can feel the life leaving her body.
As I kissed my mother’s head I whispered “It is a beautiful day to go to heaven.” The sun was warm upon her face, yet her body still seemed cold. My father went in to have his afternoon nap with her. She wanted to go to sleep with my dad and wake up with God, what a beautiful way to accept one’s own death.
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