It was a year ago. Cannot believe how time has gone. It has been nightmarish, in that we are wrestling with our own mortality as well. A year ago we finally got to do our mother’s funeral. I remember it being the most profound of days, and it was not ordinary, it was profoundly moving in every sphere of existence.
Since then despite the way being difficult and challenging, we have come to a milestone. One year on, and the message continues relevant. “In the year that Joyce Emily died, I saw the Lord”.
Whilst the world copes with it humanistic decline, the message that has accompanied us that the Lord has been with us. It seemed when darkness threatened to suffocate us, we reached out and touched the hem of His garment. His view and vision of the horizon, which seems distant, we are assured we are shortly to overcome the heights and have energy for the plains.
Despite the difficulties, the weakness, the tiredness, the insight into the Word has been ever stronger and clearer. It seems whilst our outer man breaks, our inner man is renewed day by day. I can testify this is true.
Grief is a wave form, it comes in waves, reconciling questions of this life, with the finality of one of our own. There is no logic, nor for the context that we lived, in death, the initial disbelief, then the resignation and numbness that follows. It was only in the summer that true healing started, and Christmas crept up on us, then here we are, 1 year on. Rest in peace, mother.
Marathana!
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