I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - Mother. She lost the long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense. Always supportive, mother clapped loudest at my school plays, comforted me at my father’s death, and prayed for me my entire life. When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby, my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I was an honour.
“What now, Lord?” I asked. My life stretched out before me. My brother sat staring toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. No one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, doing everything to and with her; now she was gone. My work was finished, I was alone.
