My friend, The Gypsy Mama, holds a weekly gathering for the writer people. We challenge ourselves to stop, drop, and write for just 5 minutes. No edits; no do-overs. Thankful for her prompt. And this week’s word?
The wind whipped about the coats and hats of all standing in one little area of the cemetery. The threat of rain hovered close by.
Time had come to end the gentle walk with her body from the funeral home to graveside, though she had ended her walk on earth days before.
My mama was the greatest Christian I ever knew, living out her faith with the boldness of a lion and gentleness of a lamb. Looking down in the deep hole that would soon be filled with her casket drove me to a place of heart that I never wanted to go. I suppose my dream was to enter Heaven with her. And never live on earth without her. That seemed appropriate to my way of thinking; after all, she was not only my mama, but my best friend.
Forcefully, cancer, specifically leukemia, had etched its way into every crevice and snuffed out the vibrant life of the one I love. God wanted her with Him. I can’t blame Him one bit. Her testimony lives on through her children and all the lives she touched while she graced this world.
And as the graveside team politely prompted me that it was time for me to go, and them to work, I could only think as I smiled through the tears:
This is only temporary.
This is not
Addendum: Mom went to Heaven almost 12 years ago. Seems like yesterday in some ways. Thank you for all the kind words of encouragement.