My Mother Died Today



My mother died today.

A long-expected shock.

A dreaded relief.

She’d been sick for a long time. We knew her days were limited. Nothing prepared us for the end. I’ve never lived on earth without her. Part of me has dislodged itself and floated into eternity, like tears breaking loose from my eyes. Death never feels right.

We watched her fade slowly since her diagnosis years ago. Her quality of life took hits at each turn. I told myself I’d lost her already to brain disease, so her last breath wouldn’t bother me much.

I was wrong.

There’s something so incomprehensible about death. Though seeing her on Tuesday she could barely squeeze my hand, the fact that today her lifeless fingers now stiffen grips at my heart. How can someone pass out of earthly existence? It makes no sense. God has set eternity in our hearts. Non-existence doesn’t fit there.

Jill Pritchard, born April 6, 1925 in Gary, Indiana. Married Richard Wilson and bore four children–Stuart, Jennifer, Scott, and Kristin. She had aspirations of being an actress, went to college to be a speech therapist, but then poured herself into raising four children. She filled her after-childrearing years with charity and church work, kicking back with the love of her life, my dad. Jill loved her grandchildren dearly, making room in her life for long visits and lots of activities.

To my eyes, she grew more beautiful with each stage of life. Her sparkling dark eyes and radiant smile never lost their dazzle for me. My mother was always happy to see me, and always warm and affectionate in parting. I will try to keep a little of her alive by greeting and bidding farewell in style.

So for now I bid a warm farewell to you, Mom.

My heart is breaking. See you in the morning.

My mother died today.

My hope of a better world did not.




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