Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

Tonight we had our FIRST Choir Banquet! You know, that thing for which I’ve waited four years? And it was wonderful! I wish you could have been there with me. We had “Most likely to…” awards where the underclassmen pick for the seniors and the seniors pick for the underclassmen. I got “most likely to be too short for any Six Flags rides”. Some were really hilarious and it was certainly a highlight of the evening. Then came the serious awards: the Unsung Hero award that is chosen by each class according to whom they feel was a person not given much credit for their contributions despite how good or bad their actual singing is; the Director award which is chosen, obviously, by our choir director; an award based on musicianship (can’t remember the name off the top of my head) also chosen by our choir director; and finally, the Wendi Jones Memorial Service Award. That last one is chosen by our choir director and is for a senior who has mirrored what you gave to the choir program this year: everything–whether it be time, effort, or money. I was the recipient of that award as well as the Unsung Hero Award (I kind of felt bad for taking two awards, though I am very honored). On the Service one, it had a slight description of why I was the recipient and at the end it said, “Like mother, … like daughter.”
I hope I reflect your service. Unfortunately it’s not as much of a strong trait in me as it was you, at least where impulse is concerned. You just leaped at the chance to help others and our family. I, on the other hand, tend to wait until an opportunity presents itself half the time rather than seeking out those who are in need. It’s something I need to work on.
I really missed you tonight, mom. Especially in going through the food lines watching the hands of others serving my plate, knowing one of those sets could’ve easily been replaced with yours had you been there. Even though the excitement and joy of our first (though, for me, last) banquet was evident on my face and in my heart, there was still a small part of me deep down that felt your absence.
I think that is the real loss. Not the loss of love, but the loss of the physical. And that, I think, is why we feel it so deeply here on earth. Our mortal bodies are made for as well as from this earth and so we grieve what is lost from the earth. And while we, as Christians, are not of this world, we are caught in it, left to suffer the worldly pain of physical loss. Ugh! No wonder we yearn for Heaven! What’s it like to feel NO pain whatsoever? What’s it like to kneel at the feet of our God who created us and loves us with an everlasting, encompassing, merciful, powerful love and protects us from the hurts of the world?

Your daughter,
Hannah