I am not certain if the time just flew by or it really happened that ten years have past since I saw my mom for the last time alive. Anyways, it crossed my mind today that I was born an hour earlier than September 10th. Sometimes I ask myself a pretty self explanatory question: "did God know she will die on September 10th and had me get born an hour early on purpose?" :) Of course He knew...
One year away from her death my heart was very heavy and the longing for her was deep. Any memory of her was painful, while talking of her was sweet. Two years away it was confusing and as the wound would start to heal I did not want to give up the hurt. Somehow I thought that the end of mourning would also mean forgetting all about her as everyone else seamed to forget. The state has forgotten her; her name was taken off every "living" list; the doctors and nurses did so too and she remained another passed away patient amoung the millions; stangers would randomly remember her existence and even I have learned to live without her. The wound, that terrible wound, that dripping longing of my heart seemed to be the only thing I had left from her.
Three years away it seemed like I was recomposing emotionaly and learned to let go to the memory of my suffering mom. And "fresh" memories of a healthy mother were rising up from under the troubled ground of my soul. Those precious moments of wrapping up my arms around her neck and the feeling of being "safe"; those amused looks on her face when I was getting upset and streching my lips in a "Donald duck" shape; those times when we were busy preparing for holidays and we would crack jokes the whole time while we were working; those really funny moments when my sister and I were tickling her that she would cry laughing; the winter evenings when we would pick her up from the train station and we would carry her home on a sleigh running like two crazy maniancs...
Ten years away though I can recall both the suffering and the sweet memories in peace; and I do tear up at the thought of her trial and pain; and I do smile at the goofy moments and say to myself: "she hasn't been forgotten and she will never be". And that is because our lives will always be tangled with hers. I am looking right now at a picture of my sister and I do see, somehow, my mom's "reproduced" face. Those cheeks and that nose and those lips are 'screaming" of her existence. I look in the mirror and I see my mom's random gestures: the way I move my hands, my fingers, sometimes the way I smile. I also get upset like her at times (cuz other times I get upset my way :)) and worry just the same she used too... I work like her, unable to stop untill the work is complete... I cook like her, since she taught me how and so does my sister. And our lives reflect her all over, even though she's been gone for a decade.
Apperantly, this was God's way of grieving my heart, of humbling my life under His mighty hand to open my eyes to salvation. And how could I ever regret such thing that totally changed my earthly future, my upcoming decisions and wants, let alone my eternity? "For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10)".
It's really been ten years since I've been crushed under the hand of death, looking it in the eyes with desperate and fearful heart. Still rooted in my parents' safe and lovely nest, surviving this seemed just as impossible as crossing the ocean on a jet ski. But the same mighty hand that wounded has healed and there is no doubt in my mind that this has been His will...
English Translation HERE
Sunt o iubitoare a cuvintelor; le vad in varful degetelor mele, incerc de multe ori sa le ating, insa imi dau seama ca ele sunt menite sa atinga.