She begins to grow more cold, each breath grows farther and farther apart. More shallow, and impossibly more shallow as the seconds tick by.
I hold Momma's hand. I squeeze it three times. Hoping with everything in me she will feel it and she will respond. She doesn't. She wants to. She cannot. I am rubbing Momma's head. Tucking stray hairs behind her ear. Ever so gently pressing my thumb up the bridge if her nose, between her eyebrows, to her hair line. All the while whispering through gritted teeth and foggy eyes. "It's ok, Momma. It's ok Momma. You can go. You can go rest. You've worked hard, it's time Momma." I bent down and kissed her forehead twice. Firm and sweet. She was dressed in white, was escorted by her dad and best friend, down the aisle to her Love. Jesus stood at the end of the pews beaming from ear to ear. Momma continued down the aisle. She smiled, certainly confused but surprisingly content. Each step careful and precise. Was she really walking again? On her own none the less? Being held by her daddy? Walking to her Father? "You are so beautiful" Jesus whispered in Momma's ear. "You were a good and faithful and hardworking servant." Momma wept as she began to drink in what was going on around her. She is whole. Her body, perfect, healed. She took a step closer to Jesus. Jesus reached up to Momma's face and gently wiped the tears from her eyes. His hands are strong but soft; he holds the back of Momma's head. And ever so gently runs his fingers through her hair. He gently kissed her forehead twice and squeezed her hand. He whispered to her "It's ok my child. It's ok my daughter. It's ok precious one. You can come. You can come. Let me take your burden. It's time, Diane. It's time." Momma passed away today at 4:10pm. She was my best friend and biggest fan. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have even been loved and taught by her.
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June 2017
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