WHEN MY MOTHER DIED

When my mother died, so too ended the color which she infused into her three concentric circles of influence. 

For my brother and myself, and particularly for my father, the light that had given us light had gone out. The three of us meandered into new relationships with each other, but not until we bumped into many walls along the way.

For our extended family, the illumination that had shed light on interpersonal tensions through wisdom and grace had gone dark, and so did the family’s ability to feel and stay so easily connected. Other avenues were eventually forged, but never seemed to afford the same facility of communication among often disparate personalities.

Finally, for my parents’ social circle, the beacon that had drawn couples and more especially singles to her shore for meals, entertainment, and fellowship had been been extinguished. In happy times and sad times that followed, that social circle took many other shapes, but never regained its simplicity and beauty as an all-encompassing net that gathered, made whole, and dispersed its members, better off that they had been together for a time.

I believe that God sends light out into the world by breathing life into certain carriers of illumination whose ability to reflect that light for the benefit of others is their mark on the world. My mother was one such person. Many times since her passing I have reflected on others around us who seem so “different” to me now, and I realize that it was her influence that made them better. For all she touched, she brought out our authentic selves in a way we never noticed. Of course we wouldn’t have noticed, as we know that the hand of God, while powerful and magnificent, is invisible.