cranio e giglio

As I was praying, I thought to myself: why would God love me? Am I worthy?

Then I realized it was pointless to ponder this question. God chose to love us, create us, and enter into relationship with us when he did not need to.

In an effort to subside my guilt, I used to tell folks my last conversation with my mother was amicable. Not true. About a week before her death, she had called, crying, and in pain. This was nothing out of the ordinary. I advised her to go to the hospital, but she persistently refused. I was so frustrated, I passed the phone off because "I couldn't deal with her."

I had planned on calling her the night before she died, but I decided to wait a day. One of the biggest regrets of my life.

The following week felt like I carried my cross and quite literally walked through the Valley Of The Shadow of Death. Anyone who has lost a loved one knows. I remember, sitting in the car, shamefully praying my time would be cut short and I could be with my mother.

Most vividly, I remember cleaning out her house. That was the worst day of my life.

I had been there a few weeks before visiting. Clothes were hanging outside, plates drying, leftovers in the fridge, pens at the table and my mother's agenda (maybe that's where I get my obsession with planners). I felt my heart drop into my stomach. My mother did not know she was going to die. My mother was planning on eating those left overs, folding her laundry, and planning her next day (though she rarely had anything scheduled). Death does not wait for appointments, dirty dishes, or leftovers. It does not wait for birthdays or anniversaries or weddings.

Among the unfinished tasks and leftovers, we found a great treasure: letters and cards we had written to her the years before. She kept so many--whether they were pages or two sentences. She kept them all.

"A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.

*sets alarm to 11:55pm*

me: ttyl, 2016.

*12:01am*