A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us when troubles thicken around us; still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.

– Washington Irving (1783-1859)

by Sara Devins

When I gave birth to my son in 1989, I had a feeling of finally belonging to the community of women who give birth. It was a huge emotion, one you must experience to understand. So this is how it feels to hold a newborn, breast feed an infant, smell the neck of a baby. This is how it feels to open your heart up so much you would die for this love. I had finally experienced the universal mother song.

Then, seven years after the birth of my son, my father died. Just recently, my mother died. Now, I have a new awareness about belonging to the family of mankind. About joining in the other universal experience – death. About opening up my heart and breaking open my heart. A new ocean of awareness has entered my consciousness unbidden. A new understanding of the cycle of life and love. It is as equally deserving of awe as birth; way bigger than I can take in.

My father’s death was unexpected, and Mom went downhill quickly after he died. She was in a care facility, and she was ready to die, wanted to die, waited to die. We also wanted that for her. She was uncomfortable with emphysema, and she missed my father so.

It all sounded right. You have a funeral, mourn, and at the same time, celebrate her life. We are all aware of the cycle of life, aren’t we? But I was not prepared for the impact my mother’s death would have on me. That the full cycle of life is huge, that I would begin a life review, that I would mourn over moments lost, that I would have to grow up faster than I wanted, that I would want to bring back time, that life is even a bigger mystery than I had supposed. Sometimes, even now, I’ll be making a bed, folding laundry, or making dinner, and I’ll think, she did this.

As time moves on and I recall pieces of my life with her, and let the tears fall as they may, I have become aware of an unexpected gift that death offers. It is the present, right here and now.

So, I pull myself out of my reverie and bake my son’s favorite cake. When he comes home, I want to be here for him in this cycle of life, love and mothers.