The other day I went to visit her in the cemetery and was unnaturally shocked that it was covered with snow. I don't know why I was shocked, after all it had been snowing! I guess I've been so used to seeing her plot green and to discover it cemented with snow kind of dazzled me. My flowers have been routinely removed for ever since the weather turned, I haven't been able to do my usual weekly visits. Five days after Halloween has been long gone and her grave stood with no flowers as if I've forgotten about her. I had to request that they remove the snow from her plot. The gentleman in the office after taking down her name and my phone number apologized, "Sorry for the snow". I merely chuckled for I know he was being sarcastic. As if he could have stopped the snow had he wanted to.
Ever since her passing I've found myself constantly thinking about her. I miss her gravely. My mom. Every now and then a song, an aroma, a person or nature itself turn my thoughts toward her and a flood of questions, old and new burns within my mind.
Why did she have to die the way she did?
Did she deserve to die in such a way? Breast Cancer and Stroke leaving her paralyzed and bedridden?.
Was is a punishment? A curse? From her past?
Could we have done more to save her?
Had God forsaken her? Forsaken us?
Wouldn't it had been better if she died right away. Less pain, less worry?
With all the understanding I have of the Plan of Salvation and that in life we have to suffer through afflictions and sickness, how then, do I still dare to question or doubt God's will. When my mother was still alive there were moments where she had begged for death. It tore me apart to witness her in such a state because we have been pleading for her to live. "Give us more time with her please" we've begged. Not only myself but also my siblings. And even when she lived, we still didn't make the most of her life and there were days where she felt anything but neglected by her children for she longed for them every day.
Visions of her in different stages of my childhood, comes to mind. Her smiles, her laughter, her anger which was very rare. The way she provided for us and the way she loved us. I remember her in so many different ways. She had endured her afflictions well. This woman, as much as her mind was altered by her stroke, she never ever complained or want to burden us with complains of pain. Only towards the end, when her body was overcome with the disease, did we notice the strain of pain and the worry on her lovely face.
I can prolong these torturous questions that haunts my mind and may eventually bring the wrath of God upon my head. Or, I can give in and trust in Him that everything happens for a reason and I don't have nor need to know the reason why. That the Almighty is all-knowing and that my ways are never His ways. To accept that in this life, there need to be an "opposition" in all things. Pain vs. Pleasure. Good vs. Evil. Sickness vs. Health and Vitality and the list goes on and on.
Perhaps what I need to do most of all, is let go of these doubts and appreciate what I've been blessed with. The fact that I'm still breathing is a MIRACLE on its own. And for the rest of those I love most, how precious and exquisite this life is and to make it count.