Life Without Mother

By God’s grace, I would say that I have no regrets from my mother’s death. The day she died, I distinctly remember saying “I love you” and spending a couple of extra moments with her the night before (without even knowing that would be the last night I’d see her alive). Actually, if I was given a freebie redo, I would probably have finished my science project the night before my birthday, so that when she asked on my birthday night if I wanted to watch a movie with her, I could’ve happily done so with no guilt. As it is, I don’t regret that one moment of responsibility in choosing not to watch in order to finish a project due the next day. But yes, it would have been nice to have that one last experience with her.

What I have had over the past few years, however, are many wishes. I wish she could have been here for this. I wish she could’ve heard that. I wish I could show her my improvement here. I wish she was here for this milestone and that accomplishment. I wish I could have just one more moment with her. I wish she could give me one more hug.

It’s the things since she’s been gone that have put a yearning in my heart. It’s a different kind of feeling from regret. Regret makes you want to go back and fix or change something. (In this sense, at least) to wish something is different is to change the present moment. Perhaps there is a little backwards glance in wishing to go back to relive a moment, but not requiring that moment to change. This has helped me to keep moving forward. I’m not chained to a past I want to change, I’m simply carrying with me poignant memories that like to impress themselves on the present moment.

Only by the Lord’s gracious sovereignty do I have the relief of no regrets. And it’s by His gracious comfort that the wishful thinking of these memories do not crush me.