Drafts

I seldom think too much about what I am going to post. It seems to me that I want to keep it spontaneous and fresh. Today, I thought long and hard about this post. It seemed like it is so important. I almost wanted to be quiet and say nothing.

This woman in our circle just lost a fight to cancer. Did I want to use her death to write? Was I being exploitative? Had not the family gone through enough? What did I have to do with any of it?

All of these questions came at me hard and quick. I had been praying for her recovery for so long I felt. It seems like I have to let go of her and grieve for the light that I never got to see enough of.

Who was this lady? She was a writer’s mother.

In 2013, my mother collapsed and died. She is gone from this world.

There is this place that I see in my dreams. This place is light and smells of flowers that do not irritate. There is angelic music. Many people are there and they shine like small suns, warm and golden. In this place, angels speed about, getting things done. In this place, the saints are all there. They keep their identities since they were so close to God while here.

Saint Francis is talking peace. Saint Ignatius of Loyola is all about discernment. St. Therese of Lisieux prays for so many people. As many days as there are in centuries, there is a saint for each day.

Shiny and bright. They help us in our daily lives down here. I believe, no, I know that my mother is in a better place than this. All of these lights go out every day. My fiance said that the light then goes on in heaven.

I want to be there with them, too. This life is the first draft, the novel is yet unwritten. Up there.

 

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