“Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Gospel according to St. Matthew 5:4
I was never prepared for mourning. I was never told what it would truly be like. I didn’t realize how much it hurts to lose a parent. I still have a hard time believing that my mother is gone. She is gone. And she is never coming back. The tears I shed are plentiful even though its been so long since I’ve seen her lying there in the casket, and the burning in my throat doesn’t go away. The feeling that at any moment I will start to wail in mourning and lamentation is strong.
I went home this past weekend after two months. It was strange. Not hearing her voice yell as I walked in the door “which one of my children is it.” It is strange how death still has a sense of a sting. It still has the power to redefine a family. Each person in a family is important and once they have become a part of the family, the family is no longer whole without them. We are left trying to figure out how to move on without our mother. It is tough, and there were many points in my stay that it was so overwhelming that I would rather have no family at all, than a family without my mother. The pain of mourning is just as fresh now as it was the day we buried her.
But I know that Jesus has told me that though I mourn I will be comforted, and that that is a blessing. So I am seeking comfort in my mourning, doing what I can to ease my mother’s suffering in preparation for eternal life through praying the rosary for her, and drawing near to Jesus’s own mother, who truly understands what it means to mourn. I contemplate her in her seven sorrows, especially in the seventh: Jesus is Buried in the Tomb. She is not unsympathetic as I wander in a place of mourning between the burial and the resurrection. She knows the sorrow of that Saturday. Mary will console me during my Saturday between the burial and resurrection of my mother.