She is a beautiful women.
Life starts at the time of trusting God, everything before that was a shadow. Death is a shadow on the life of those who trust, just a shadow.
She has been sick for years. A couple of summers ago we laughed on the beach, while the family gathered for a celebration, a wedding, two people vowing their love to each other before God.
Air was painful. The soft breeze I would open my mouth to drink had forgotten the path down to her lungs. She spoke in a whisper, a whisper of kindness.
She smiled, she cared, had gentle words.
Last Summer we gathered for another celebration, a graduation, a person stepping forth giving their future to the service of God.
This Winter I heard the sickness had increased, the pain had intensified.
Quietly we gathered again, for yet one more celebration, a celebration of life given for the service of God, of one who cared, who mothered, who lived out her vow to love just one man. A celebration of a life fully lived, a life that passed through the shadow called death, only to continue living. Living completely with no hindrances.
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