Death and the Gospel

     My mother passed away a little over a month ago.  It wasn't surprising, as she'd been suffering with mind-altering levels of pain due to an inexplicable infection on her legs for over two years, but it still feels a bit... abrupt.  We didn't want her to die, but at the same time, her suffering was so great and our helplessness to alleviate her condition so very limited that it was something of a blessing for her to be freed from her physical body.  Even if she'd fought to linger with us longer, her quality of life would have been so low that she would have been even more miserable than she was, which honestly shouldn't be possible. 

    The hard thing is that now that her pain-altered, rather argumentative persona is no longer overshadowing our existence, I'm able to remember all the wonderful things about her.  How good of a listener she was in the Before.  How giving of a mother and friend she was. We'd been watching her lose herself slowly over those two years, and in many respects we'd been mourning that entire time, but it still hurts now.  

    Still, I'm grateful, so grateful that she's no longer suffering.  It's hard to watch someone you love lose themselves and their abilities and independence due to unmanageable amounts of pain. Sometimes I wonder why she had to suffer all the medical challenges she did over the years, or why so many doctors seemed to disregard her and her complicated medical history.  Still, I remember one of my favorite pieces of choral music "My Kindness Shall Not Depart from Thee" by Rob Gardner, and I recall one of the scriptures quoted in it, "The Son of Man hath descended below [all things]. Art thou greater than he?" (D&C 122:8).  

    I also am able to see some of the blessings, like being able to see the love, care, and support my dad gave her throughout this time. He made temple covenants with my mother and while he is not perfect, I am inspired in my own marriage by his good example in honoring and fulfilling those covenants. 

    The hardest part is knowing how many life events she'll be missing for my siblings and I.  She loved being a mother, and she was always so proud of us. She survived to see all seven of her children graduate high school, three graduate with their bachelors, four missions, one wedding, and one grandchild.  I wish she'd gotten to be there for more.  Still, considering how many serious medical conditions she'd faced over the years, I'm glad we got as long as we did.

    My youngest sibling, just nineteen years old decided to speak at our mother's memorial service.  We all had the option, but the rest of us knew we probably wouldn't be able to handle it, just doing our family musical number was difficult enough. (My mother's first love was music and we'd all grown up singing together, so it seemed only fitting that her husband and children honor her memory with song. We sang "Be Still, My Soul".)  In his remarks, my brother mentioned an impression he'd received shortly after our mother's passing.  It was an image of her running through a field, with arms outstretched to embrace our Savior.  This was particularly impactful as the infection in her legs had caused things to deteriorate to the point that, in an attempt to save her life, both her legs were amputated above the knee about a month before she died.  As he spoke, I was able to picture it in my mind: my mother, not sick or pain plagued as she had been, but young and vibrant, full of light and love and laughter as she had been in my childhood. I could see also Christ, waiting to welcome her and comfort her for all that she had faced in her relatively short time on earth, His love and joy that she had endured shining from His face.   

    I am far from perfect, and frequently I feel that I'm far from even being good, but I know that there is a God, our Heavenly Father, who knows and loves us personally.  I know that He sent us a Savior, His Son, Jesus Christ.  I know that there are absolute truths and there are divine moral standards, and ultimately we all will be held accountable for the choices we make in mortality according to those standards.  I also know, that God is a god of mercy and love.  Time and again He invites us to repent and come unto him. In Matthew 11:28-30 Christ says, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." When I was younger I misunderstood what type of yoke Christ was referencing here. I thought of the yoke used by historical milkmaids to balance two full buckets of milk, and I thought, "I guess the balancing makes it easier to carry, but still seems heavy to me."  Then when I was older, I discovered that Jesus was speaking of oxen.  With oxen the animals pull in pairs.  They are harnessed together with the yoke and it is their joint, simultaneous effort that makes the load easy to move. Christ promises to work with us, being yoked together in our efforts. Isn't that a beautiful promise?

    God lives and He loves us. That is why we have this opportunity to live and grow in knowledge and experience.  The world we live in is far from perfect, but as Christ said, "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."  (John 16:33).   I know that I'll have hard days going forward, in regards to my mother's passing, and just in general, but I also know that as I rely on my Savior to help me through the hard things that I will be strengthened and that my capacity to trust in Him will increase. "Oh sweet the joy this sentence gives: "I know that my Redeemer lives!"