Till I See You Again, My Dearest

It’s been a few days since you left this world, my beloved.
And still, my mind cannot grasp the cruel reality — sometimes I catch myself thinking it was all a terrible prank played by the Universe.
Waking up hurts. Eating hurts. Breathing hurts.
But none of this could ever compare to the weight you must have carried in your fragile soul.

We watched helplessly as your light grew dimmer with each passing day.
Some days, your voice still sparkled, full of life. Other days, only silence answered back.
We held on with all the faith we could gather, pleading with Heaven to change the course we knew, deep down, was unfolding before our eyes.

You and Dad tried to shield me with your loving ways, but nothing could have prepared me for that last Saturday.
I was frozen in shock.
Your once brilliant blue eyes had turned brown and distant, searching the heavens as if trying to catch a glimpse of the place that was calling you home.
Your lips were parted, dry and cracked from pain.
Your skin, once so radiant and alive, had paled into an aching gray.
Your breath fought so hard for every second, and even now, the memory of it splits my heart open.

So much changed that day… and I cannot bring myself to put it all into words, because no pain I could ever describe would be greater than the one you bore so bravely.
Instead, I cried out to the Lord —
begged Heaven to intervene, begged Holy Mary to touch you with mercy.
But my tears were too late. God had already called you into His arms.

The doctor, so careless, so indifferent…
She failed you.
She took your number but not your suffering, and when your pain rose like a tide to drown you, we were left running in circles, helpless.
Even in your last battle, bureaucracy won over compassion —
morphine locked behind rules and doors, while you, my sweet soul, suffered.

We did what little we could.
Algocalmin. Nurofen.
It was not enough.

Still, know this, Mother — I will not let your pain go unheard.
I will speak out.
For you.
For every soul who deserves better.
Because your light, so pure, would want even the coldest hearts to feel remorse and to change, if not for you, then for those who will come after you.

And so, on a quiet Sunday night, at 10 PM, you left us.
Not defeated-no —, never that — but free, just before the cancer could steal the last healthy beat of your being.
You could not speak anymore, and tears became your last words.

Oh, how I wish I had been better, had done more, loved you louder, longer, closer.
But from afar, I poured all the love I could muster, whispering to you again and again how much I loved you, how much I needed you to stay.

When it was time to lay you to rest, I fought every step.
I hated the coffin, hated the earth that would separate me from you.
I wanted to gather you in my arms, shield you from the finality of it all.
But God, in His great mercy, began stitching our broken hearts, teaching us to be strong, to believe that love does not die.

At the funeral, your sweet spirit wrapped itself around us —
a soft caress on our bruised souls.
A mischievous pin left in the middle of the floor,
a broken table where those who wronged you once sat —
Your gentle laughter and love are still finding their way to us.

And so, my dearest one, know this:
You are cherished beyond words, loved beyond life,
and through every good deed you did, every smile you shared, even through your pain,
you live on.

I promise to honor you —
Your love for God, your kindness, your endless grace.
You will forever be the song inside my soul.

---

A Letter to My Beloved Mother

My sweetest Mother,

You are not gone.
You are just beyond the veil, watching with those ocean sparkling eyes, now brighter than ever.

I miss you with a hunger that no words could satisfy.
I would trade anything to hold you once more, kiss your forehead, to hear your laughter fill the room again.
But even in the darkness of grief, I feel your warmth brushing against my spirit.
I hear your quiet voice whispering strength into my bones.

Thank you for every sacrifice, every prayer, every tender glance.
Thank you for loving me even when life made it hard.
I carry your love inside me — a torch that will never burn out.

Until the day we meet again, I will walk this earth with your legacy alive in my heart.
I will smile for you.
I will fight for others for you.
I will love harder, laugh louder, and live deeper — for you.

I love you forever,
Your daughter.

Saturday funeral

If you attend funerals long enough, one after another you get to understand that they all have the same structures and details, more or less depending on the tradition and customs.

People from all the places coming and leaving to visit for the last time a person that once used to be someone great, someone, of value. They all cry and appear affected in the front of the harsh reality that stole another person from this earth.

But the person does not react in any way, as the soul is long gone, leaving the cold, rough body behind without any expression. You get to see the empty body, the clothes, the house and every single thing that he left behind.

Only the sky is turbid, as the soul is feeling sorry for leaving the place where he was born, where he was raised, where he learned to love and at the end, where he died. The wind is angry and the degrees decrease in the thermometer.

The road to the church is long enough to make you feel the cold weather as the cold embraces you all over. The quick stops, the priest’s prayers and his last bridges on this world are all a part of the last ritual.

At the end after long-awaited prayers, tears and the last goodbye, we arrive at the last place, delivering the person to the place we will all go, in a wooden coffin becoming one-off with the earth.

The irony is that no matter how much that person struggled in life he did not take anything material with him. All he had was the clothes on him and a wooden cross that will become in time nothing.

The sadness, sorrow, and tears are for the moment, and they don’t last forever. As people are meant to move on and take care of their souls, paying attention to the cross that they have to bear, being focused on their sins and their short future.

…………………………………………………………………………

For life is just a journey and we are only passengers. We remain with the good deeds done over this life, with the smiles we offered, with the kind words spoken. Make sure you will fill your bucket with the right „things” because, at the end of the journey, the material things disappear.

(Image Source – Pixabay)