There was a time, not too long ago, when I would dread doctor's appointments and those annual tests. I always figured, based on my medical history, that I would eventually contract one of those horrible female cancers and die a long and painful death. I would be sick to my stomach until word came that all tests were negative.
Since my mother's death and the recent "celebration" of another birthday, I have begun looking at things differently. With the hope in my heart that I will one day see my mother again, in her glorified self, the thought of my own end of life seems sweeter and sweeter with each passing day. No, I am not giddy over the fact of physical or emotional pain. I am, however, giddy at the thought of eternity...on the streets of gold...with my saviour. Where I will no longer battle sin. Where my heart will no longer hurt over those I have lost through death or distance or change. Where I will no longer have any physical pain, and no longer cry or have need to cry. I grow weary with each passing day. I try to pull myself up by my bootstraps, but fail at every turn.
I had no idea the toll that my mother's death would take on me....who could know? Each time I pass her picture, each time I call my dad, I feel it all over again.
My body aches from the pain of her absence....
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