Four generations – This photo was taken April 19, 2018, when she met her, then two-month-old, great-grandson for the first time.

When she awakens she cries out to God asking him to please take her. She is ready.

It is in her cries I feel my heart. Breaking. Open.

It is in her cries I feel my tears. Falling. Falling, into the cracks. And with each tear, the cracks are filled by their healing touch washing away the helplessness I feel in these moments of despair.

And then, she asks me to pray with her. And so, in the quiet that blankets the night before the dawn, we pray the prayer she taught each of us as a child when every Friday night she would gather us four children and together, we knelt in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary that graced our living room and prayed the Rosary, “Hail Mary full of Grace the Lord is with Thee. Blessed art though amongst women and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb Jesus….”

Her lips move ever so slightly. Her voice whispers in the dark as soft as a feather falling.

We repeat it, again and again. And softly as a feather falling, her eyes close and she is asleep once again.

I sit in the silence watching her folded hands upon her chest rise and fall. Gently.

Her body weakens every day, yet continues to be strong. Her faith is stronger. God will come for her soon. She prays.

It is in her faith, I find comfort. In her faith that never wavers no matter how dim the spark that is her life becomes in my world, the light of Love becomes brighter.

My mother is traveling her path towards the transcendent light of eternity. Her way.

Sometimes, in her awakened moments, she apologizes for taking so long. For keeping us waiting at her bedside.

It has always been her way. To be more concerned of the welfare of others than her own. To not want to be a bother. To not want to inconvenience anyone.

There is no where else we’d rather be, we tell her.

It is the truth. There is nowhere to be than here, at her bedside, breathing with her. Loving on her.

And with each breath, my mother bestows upon us a gift born of the Love that brought us each into this world. This love she holds so fiercely. This love she has carried throughout her lifetime carries each of us now in her final days.

It is the Love of family. The Love of God. The Love of her enduring faith.

It is her way.

To love no matter how dim the light.

To believe in God no matter how dark the night.

To have Faith no matter what.

In all things, Love is her way and God is her light.

Namaste.