A mother’s love is unbounded by earthly dimensions. 

Connie was cleaning her mom’s house for the last time. It was the kind of cleaning that a has an ending, an undoing of a life lived. Since that fateful day, grief became her constant companion.  Now her life was divided into two periods: the Time-Before, and the Time-After Mom died. 

In the Time-Before, she and her mother had plans.  They planned to visit gardens, enjoy art festivals and go antiquing in scenic places that time had forgotten.  After Connie’s retirement, they would have all the time in the world to leisurely explore quaint little hamlets. But time was not on their side.  An abrupt phone call from the hospital changed everything.  Even the ringtone sounded urgent and foreboding, starting a course of events that Connie could not have predicted. The voice on the phone said come to the hospital, now.  Her mother was not expected to survive the night. 

_____________________

Connie arrived in time to be with her mom, to sit with her and to hold her hand as she drew her last breath. She watched her mother quietly slip away. The Time-After had begun when Connie’s own heartbeat drummed hollow, each lub-dub echoing this new reality, a life without her mother. The planned outings that would never be turned into shadowy silhouettes fading beyond her reach. She wondered if a person could die from so much heartbreak.

A Cradled Heart

Losing her mother so suddenly left Connie numb. Condolences from family and friends offered loving support, somewhat dulling the pain, but grief is a vacuum that swallows up any sense of comfort. It bookends your days with a harsh stabbing reminder each morning and a heavy weary heart at night.

Then came the reality of clearing out her mom’s apartment, going through everything, each item a piercing memory until finally it is all undone. 

It took two weekends. With just a few more boxes to load from now empty home, Connie was about to take her final step out the door.  Holding the last bundle of items, she turned around for one last look. Teary eyes surveyed the bare rooms, absent of the personal things that altogether create a home. Throughout the whole process, Connie felt a loving essence that seemed to keep her going, a caress that seemed to cradle her aching heart.  And then, that loving spirit gave her a little nudge.

Suddenly, a particular window caught her attention. It was a nondescript window with lace curtains that looked onto a nearby pasture. Connie thought, I must have left the window open. A slight breeze floated into the room and the lacey curtain waved a bit, as if to punctuate her final departure with a soft goodbye. She put down her things and took out her phone. A click later and that window was preserved and just as quickly, forgotten.  

Discovery

Weeks later, Connie was looking for a way to step out of her grief, a sign, or something that would let her know her mom was in a good place.  How could she know she already had it?  

One afternoon while sharing photos with a friend, the picture of the window slid into view. To Connie it was still just a window, but her friend saw something different. 

 “Look again, Connie.”

She looked.  Utterly surprised, she blurted out, “How did I not see that?” 

There, in plain sight was an arrow pointing upward.  It was green and radiated light. Like a light in a dark storm, it beckoned to her like a beacon of hope.  It felt like a gateway, a portal.  And that is when grief loosened its tight grip and set her soul free. Aloud she whispered, 

“Thank you, Mom”.

Windows: The Continuity of Love

Connie’s story compelled me to think more about spiritual symbols, colors, and their meanings.  Colors are mentioned in the old and new testaments hundreds of times. I also looked to artists as well as writers. I discovered that green is the universal color of new life, rebirth, and immortality.  Then I found a commonality regarding windows as a metaphor. A window is a portal for new perspectives, for thoughts and for the soul to move freely, breaking down boundaries. The upward arrow signifies continuity.

I think about the beautiful stained-glass windows adorning the small parish church in my hometown.  Each one was a beautiful work of art, yet I was always drawn to one in particular. It was the one I sat near every Sunday. It was the open always left open.