The Peace that Passes Understanding

My beloved mother.

  This night was brutal.

  Ever burned on my heart.

The moments wherein the

  dark strove to swallow time;

  lonely, excruciating, terrible.

Dad rested in his bed, finally.

  You slumped in your chair,

  depleted from the effort

  of dying.

Me, as close to you as possible,

  holding your head, holding you.

  Devastated in the black silence

  that threatened to defeat light.

That year, I had held vigil

  so many long, lonely nights,

  weeping, waiting, wondering.

This night, I bore witness

  while you slipped away.

  Every moment, at once

  unbearable and sacred.

In the dark, I prayed that I

  might be gifted a glimpse of the

  peace that passes understanding

  which I knew would soon be yours.

Just hours later,

  as I watched you cross the bridge,

  the peace that passes understanding

  flooded my soul, washed over my heart.

This sweet gift of grace was remarkable.

  It caught my breath and enfolded me

  in a singular, extraordinary moment

  that remains inimitable in my life.

In that hallowed moment

  as you beheld heaven,

  God stirred my soul.

I love you, my dear mother.

  My love for you, endless.

  I will never forget, never.