The Gift of Mom
This was the first test message I received this morning, sent to me by my sister Aie. She and my siblings will all be together today in our hometown to commemorate our mom’s death anniversary.
Mom suddenly left for her heavenly home on a Good Friday 11 years ago. From that day (April 18 does not fall on a Good Friday every year), we have been having special thanksgiving services on Easter Sunday.
This is the first time that the lunar calendar coincides with the solar calendar—April 18 is Good Friday. But this year, I cannot be there. After my three-day hospital ordeal a few weeks ago, I have dreaded being too far away from my doctor. It’s probably because I have not yet caught up with my 100% self.
“It’s just your imagination,” JR tells me. Or maybe it’s just a post-confinement trauma.
Whatever it is that keeps me home today, I am with my siblings in praising and thanking God for the gift of our Mom—she who loved the color purple, and who, in life, was a vessel of God’s grace to many.
May her legacy of generosity (with her personal possessions, time, love, and everything good) live on in the hearts of her children, in-laws, grandchildren, relatives, and legions of friends.