She passed just about a couple of months ago, when we gathered around her coffin. She and I had spent the last years really caring for each other; it was love that came up above all, the love that had always been the rock of our relationship. I cared for her for she was ill, and she incredibly cared for me, as she gave evidence to very well understand my challenges, despite she couldn’t move nor speak anymore. It must have been the language of souls, when the two involved become one, speaking the same, aiming at the same. She was my mum. Now she is safe, nothing scares her anymore. I know I’m always in her big big heart.
To endure we had the sad passing, and a moving celebration that brought us to tears. It means no comeback when somebody dies, but the very way you perceive life can come out stronger. Mum’s memory is vivid, to the point that I am surprised how her passing has meant freedom for both. She got the highest. I have got peace in return. What a mighty answer we got from God.
She’s gone, I’m here, only a temporary night of separation. I see many still marching like dead ones burying their dead. They dance and dance, but they have no hope, it’s all so unnatural…but now the time has come for a crucial choice: let things slowly die, or bet for a rebirth. It’s true there are some issues in life you can never joke about, only decide, and especially decide no more to be you and only you again and again.
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“Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:60)