Sorrow and thankfulness are two sides of the same coin.
This much I learned on April 18, 2003, Good Friday, when our Mom breathed her last while my sister prayed Psalm 23 in her ear. The pain of loss was directly proportional to the appreciation of her life on Earth.
Grief never disappears. But over time, the sadness of loss is layered with a deeply-felt gratitude for the gift of connection within a brief borrowed time here on terra firma.
Deep down, I still cry because Mom’s presence is no more, but I smile because of the memories, lessons, and joy, her DNA passed on to us.
We all decided that we celebrate her life on Easter Sunday, whichever date it falls on, instead of Good Friday. For 23 years now, on Resurrection Day, my siblings who are in the country travel to the church where we all grew up and met the Lord. It’s the church that our Mom served all her days, even long after we had left to start our own families. There, together with the church brethren, her grace-packed life is celebrated.
Me? For various reasons in the last decade, I could only join them in spirit and in prayers. They send photos and a blow-by-blow account of what had happened during the preparations, the event itself, and even their trip back home.
Resurrection Day! When Mom and all believers who leave this earth will be raised, become imperishable and glorified, mirroring Jesus' resurrection. And there, we will have an unending relationship with our Savior and each other.
“Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.” (1 Corinthians 15:51-52 ESV)
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