A friend of mine lost his mom today after a long illness; I sent him this, because it’s the most comforting thing I can say to that level of loss:
Everyone has his own beliefs about what comes next; mine is that [your mom] is again as she was originally, and will hear you now if you speak to her.
When I was 9 years old my grandmother died. About a year later I began to really miss her; it wasn’t until then that I got a sense of the finality of death. When I understood that I would not see her again I cried and cried. Then wrote her a 14-page letter.
That night I had a vivid, very odd dream: there were no images and there was nothing to see, but suddenly she was with me. I was so excited, I yelled and told her how much I missed her and that I had so much that had happened that I wanted her to know. She put me on her lap — still no images, I never saw her — and told me to tell her everything. I talked and talked and talked, filling her in on the past year.
When I was done she told me she wanted me to know something, too.
She said that she would still have to leave, and that we couldn’t see each other for a while, but that there was a very important reason for the separation, and the distance was necessary, but temporary. She told me if I ever missed her the way that I had that day, that I should write again, exactly as I had. She said, “Just aim and write, exactly like you did, and even God will hear you.”
I woke up so comforted, relieved and peaceful. I was not quite 11 years old. The letter I had written her had disappeared; I never found it again.
Because of this I have never feared death.
My belief is that your mom is safe where she is, whole, at peace, and aware of what you’re going through. ❤🙏🏼
And I do believe this. That was one of the most defining moments of my childhood, because it shaped my response to every big, significant thing that came after it. This experience was such huge comfort to a grieving kid… maybe it can give solace to someone else.