Excerpts From Rays of Grace
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Chapter 1
We continued our chat about angels as we turned onto a small stretch of highway which connected Avon to my hometown of Stoughton, Massachusetts, a midsized community about thirty minutes south of Boston. When my mother stopped her story mid sentence, I looked up to see her grinning. She was clearly amused. Her smirk was not the kind that resulted from seeing something funny, she was instead smiling as if she’d just spotted an old friend from a distance, and saw that he or she was up to the same old tricks. She had the look of relieved happiness of one who realizes that a dear friend, despite time and distance, has not changed. In fact they were exactly as she remembered. This knowing, sentimental gaze in Mum’s eyes prompted me to follow their fixedness toward the horizon, where I saw what seemed like hundreds of beams of light pouring through the soft autumn clouds. I’d always been fond of this display of nature, and held it as one of the more marvelous sights on earth. There had always been something wondrous about it. As only she could do, Mum succeeded in making something beautiful into something absolutely, and literally, breathtaking.
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Chapter 7
Suddenly there was silence. I went numb. It was the first time I had ever heard of my mother doing something bad. I couldn’t look at her, as if I would see another person if I did. For the first time, the possibility dawned on me that this distinct smell, the slurred speech, the staggered walk…was not what I had believed it to be…that it could be something else entirely. A million thoughts raced through my mind. Did this mean every time she momentarily disappeared from a game that she was sneaking off to drink? No…I refused to believe it. Maybe just this once. “Why are you doing this to me?” she said to him, weeping now. Her words were almost incomprehensible. “I was just tired. This is your fault.” I didn’t know whom to believe, but it didn’t matter. Instinctively, I sided with Mum, purely because it broke my heart to see her crying.
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Chapter 14
It is a rare but beautiful thing to see someone you love experience a spiritual awakening. Although it didn’t take place overnight, my mother rekindled her relationship with God, and in doing so created a whole new understanding of faith. Her beliefs were now far more spiritual than religious. She focused on the fundamental teachings of Jesus rather than the rules and formalities imposed by the institution of the church. It was a subtle but notable difference. My mother was never a slave to traditions, and this included those associated with Catholicism.
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Chapter 17
I had just about finished getting ready to leave for the hospital when Dad called upstairs to me. “Melinda! Mum’s on the phone…do you want to wish her a Merry Christmas?” For the second time in just under an hour, I was rendered motionless. Knowing the anguish that I had undergone having learned of her grim diagnosis, I could only imagine how she must have been feeling. She was the one who was dying. What could I possibly say to her? “Melin?” my dad called again. “Yeah, I’ll grab it up here,” I said, as I entered my parents’ room. I sat down on the left hand side of their bed, Mum’s side, and reluctantly picked up the phone.
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Chapter 18
At the same time, it was agonizing for me to think that this woman, who clearly understood me better than anyone, would be gone in a few weeks. My best friend was dying. While I felt strengthened by my mother’s wisdom, I had yet to completely absorb it, so my vulnerability remained. My heart ached at the thought of losing her. “What are we going to do without you Mum?” I whispered, as I felt a familiar warmth stream down my face. My mother reached for me. “Come here, Sweetheart.” She shifted over in her hospital bed and pulled me in closely. As I nestled into her, I was instantly transported to safety. Closing my eyes, I returned to my childhood and favorite nightly ritual of Mum’s tucking me into bed. For as long as I could remember, I fell asleep to the gentleness of my mother’s voice and hands. Every night at bedtime, she’d either sit or lie beside me and talk quietly while rubbing my head, back, and bum until I slipped into a blissful state of hibernation. Without reservation, I credit my ability to fall asleep virtually anywhere at anytime to my Mum, who made falling asleep one of my favorite things in life.
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Chapter 20
Dusk was coming. Although thankful for the company, I needed to be alone. I went upstairs to my bedroom and closed the door, strangely relieved by my solitude. Kneeling on my bed, I cranked open the windows and felt winter’s breath on my face. It was invigorating. Inhaling deeply, I smelled the aroma of my neighbor’s wood burning fire. As my lungs filled with ice cold fresh air, I felt cleansed. I sat down cross-legged in my bed and stared into the approaching night. Background noise soon faded as I became enraptured in the utter silence of the evening. It was the sort of absolute stillness that only a snowfall can bring.
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Chapter 27
Another cherished memory, which took place in complete privacy and years after she had passed, enlightened me further to my mother’s character. Almost two years had gone by since Mum’s death, and Dad finally brought himself to clean out her belongings. Her closet was still filled with her clothing and her vanity still housed her fragrances and medication. My father had asked me to go through my mother’s belongings and take whatever I wanted before he offered anything to my aunts and family. I had already taken her perfume shortly after she died; not to ever wear it myself, but so I could keep her with me in some earthly sense. It eventually evaporated, I believe from my smelling it so often. After gathering some clothes and jewelry, I looked inside her “junk” drawer in her bureau to see if I could find any trinkets. In it, I found everything from old Mother’s Day cards my brothers and I had written her, to gimp bracelets we’d made in camp, to a scribbled piece of paper with a song I’d composed on it. It seemed as if she’d kept everything we’d ever given her.