It turns out that was far too wide a scope, and too high of a vain martyr’s hope. Instead, in came in the form of a call from my dad, sobbing my name over the cell phone. I have never in my life known my dad to cry in front of me, so I knew instantly what it was, and that my cross had come (or at least just begun). “Mom’s dead.” The cliches are the only apt expression–it was  like being hit by a train. She fainted suddenly and quietly late Friday morning while standing in the pool with her dog. My dad was in town and at home, right by her side, thanks be to God. The emergency and medical drama lasted an hour or so, and persisted into the afternoon until she’d posthumously received anointing, had a visit from the coroner (to make sure there wasn’t anything suspicious), and my dad met briefly with someone from the funeral home. The doctor thinks it may have been an abdominal aortic aneurysm that ruptured so deeply that she probably died within minutes. Though definite cause is not known, but my dad is fairly sure that she died in his arms, and that her death was nearly instant. She was only 55.

Though my heart is broken and death casts a deep shadow over my soul, God has sent many little consolations in this desert time, and for that I’m grateful. This woman who was plagued by many secret sufferings, but found her consolation in the images of angels, was buried on the feast of Our Lady of the Angels.

Eternal Rest grant unto her…and let perpetual light shine upon her.