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A Golden Cross


It was just weeks ago when I received an e-mail from the oldest of my brothers. I knew instinctively that something was wrong. Sure enough the message relayed that my mother had died. Last week we held the memorial for her at Duncan's Landing,one of several small beaches along the northern coast. It was nice to be among family; some who I had not seen for thirty years or so. It was strange to look upon faces that I had not seen since I was a child. Memories came and went and as I looked upon the ocean, I had wondered if my mom was at peace. I wondered if she held any fears about death. She had battled with diabetes for most of her life. As she got older it was harder to battle it. Her latest war with this disease had begun to chip away at her body. It began with an ingrown toenail which became infected. In spite of the treatment the infection returned and she had to have her toes removed on one foot. Her vision had already been affected still this disease demanded more. Prior to her death she had a second surgery to remove a part of her foot. I can only imagine what thoughts ran through her mind.

There was a small group of us to pay our last respects. My brothers and I gathered together and I recited the poem that I had written and posted in my last journal. Each of us had something to say. Her sister also stood there and with tears in her eyes confirmed what I believed my mom must have felt after her surgery. She had said that my mom's biggest fear was to lose her leg. I can just imagine what she must have thought watching her body being cut off a piece at a time. After our word my brothers and I found an area overlooking the water and began taking turns spreading her ashes over a place where she loved to be. This was her favorite place and came here quite often. When it was my turn I felt it would be right to take her and in my hands let the breeze take her away. I whispered my good bye's and gave her my love.

After the day was over I was still in a state of melancholy and did not speak much on the way back. I was glad that the day was over and happy that it went well, but I was emotionally drained. Before I went my separate way my aunt wanted to give me some things that my mom wanted me to have. Antique tea cups and saucers. Stuffed animals, an old doll, a few nick nacks, but what was the most important gift that told me that my mom died in peace, that she did not die resentful, or with hate in her heart was a little golden cross.
I remember as a child my mother saying that she was not a believer. She did not believe in a God, nor did she have an interest in any religion. This had bothered me to some extent as I recall. I never did see her enter a church. Of all the things I could have gotten this little cross gave me peace of mind and a sense of joy knowing that my mom found spiritual food for her soul. Yes it had only been a week since I said good bye to her, but as I look upon the clouds and feel the warmth of sunshine upon my face, I know that my mom will always be with me, forever...

I want to thank those who commented on my last journal entry. Thank you all for being there for me. It is nice to know that I am not alone, and that in spite of the distance between us, I feel a closeness to you all. Thank you so much.

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