Losing my mom to an ugly battle with lung cancer was devastating, take a moment and reflect with me.
Today is one year to the day I lost my mom to an ugly battle with lung cancer. This lost has left such a void in my life. Sometimes, the pain of the void stops me dead in my tracks. It feels as if someone has punched me in my chest and taken my breath away. The blunt force of this trauma has left a crack in my heart. In the midst of reflecting on what this last year has been like without her, I stumbled across a poem I had written when I first found out my mom had stage 4 lung cancer and I'd like to share it with you as you sip coffee with me —
Window To My Soul
Open my blinds or my curtains ... what would you see?
You would discover what is truly inside of me.
Come closer to my window, feel free to peak inside.
My feelings are intense and I feel no need to hide.
At first glance you would see a playful scenery,
but no quick glance could reveal what's deep inside of me.
With blinds wide open and curtains pulled apart,
you would see a little girl at Cedar Point amusement park.
As strange as it seems, this is a familiar place
one she and her family visited often, putting a smile upon her face.
As we married and multiplied this annual trip kept us united,
with enthusiasm and much planning we still remained excited.
As time went on our families grew and we drifted apart.
I often wondered, could it be the limited capacity of the heart?
Well here we are again, reunited and close,
these familiar feelings are what I remember the most.
Their smiles, their faces
as I step into familiar spaces.
Bumper cars, merry go rounds and roller coasters you'll see.
I'm a grown woman, is that really what's stirring inside of me?
Come near, lean into the window and look a little closer.
I'm the one because of my mother's cancer on the emotional roller coaster.
No seat belt, no arm rest, or bars to hold me in place.
My family wants to reach out and help me, but they're in the same space
Those smiling faces that used to stand and cheer me on,
has turned into troubled faces, with hope and happiness that seem far gone.
I'm climbing up the first hill with no seat belt, and I'm afraid.
Oh no, what to do? I remember ... Jesus prayed.
I leave you here, it's time to pull my curtains and close my blinds.
I've shared my wounded heart and hope I've made an impression on your minds.
One year later as I read this poem, I felt the same fear that held me captive during that 13 month cancer battle with my mom. However, during my moments of reflection, I discovered a beautiful transition that has taken place inside of me. I no longer live in fear of losing my mom. I live with the assured hope of the resurrection and of seeing her again. (John 5:28, 29) I've learned that fear can be crippling, but a sure hope is inspiring! Because of my mom's example I am motivated to rejoice in the memories of what we had and walk in the legacy she left behind. What a woman — Monica Florence Jones.
Until we meet again ...
This article was originally published at Cathy Mott . Reprinted with permission from the author.