Last evening my sister, Libby, phoned to inform me that my dear mother had departed this world. She was a few months short of 93, and because she had lived through so many changes in our lives, Lib and I felt that somehow she would always be there for us. We now feel as though a big piece of our lives has fallen away. More than 30 years ago when my fathers casket was lowered into the ground my mother tore off a piece of her garment and dropped it unto the descending casket, stating without words that a piece of her heart would be buried with him. My surviving siblings and I will leave a piece of our hearts in the grave with our mother. I weep silently as I type these words, but I take comfort in my firm belief that death of the body is not death of the self and my mother will greet me when it is my time to cast off an aging and useless body. Meanwhile, in accordance with Jewish tradition (my mother was a Jew who had converted to Christianity but continued to observe Jewish holidays and customs) the way to honor one who dies is to do a good deed in remembrance of the one who died. My mother had always taken in stray cats. Her last letter to me expressed appreciation for my efforts to help homeless cats. Beloved mother, I could not be near you when you left this world, but tonight I will bring food to many cold and hungry cats that would otherwise forage garbage for scraps to eat. I know you would approve. I love you, mother, and I will strive to honor you during whatever time God allows me to remain on this side of the veil. Ralph
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 14:39:57 +0000
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