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Spirit is willing, flesh is weak

November 11, 2017.
It's the day, Veterans' Day, she died, or passed away.
For years, I've been reading about death and dying, grieving and souls, near-death experiences, and those who communicate with the "dead."
I still can't comprehend where or who my mother is right now.
Some of the last words she said to me were: "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."
It comes from the New Testament, when Jesus was referring to his disciples who fell asleep and were asleep when the Romans took Jesus away, later to be crucified on the cross.
The disciples were tired, even though they wanted to stay up/awake/alert for Jesus.
My mom was very religious--in her own private way.
She rarely went to church. But she had mini-Bibles and the New Testament books tucked away in her end table by the bed. She prayed before every chemo appointment. She spoke in Biblical phrases every now and then. But not often.
When she did, it reminded me of how religious she was.
She didn't preach much, but she did give her opinion occasionally on "how to be a good Christian."
Mom came to me a few times since she has passed.
The first time was the day after she died. In her house, my childhood home, in New Rochelle. I was in the downstairs bedroom looking for photos of her in closets and old bureaus, and I suddenly saw a hand print, part of one, on the mirror that was laying on top of one of the bureaus.
It was a clear signal ... Had I placed my hand on that mirror? Was that my handprint?
It was as if someone fogged up the mirror, with their hand. And then I watched is slowly, so slowly, disappear.
No fingerprints left.
Just a feeling that she was trying to say, 'Hello my love, I'm here. With you."
Just a week or so prior, I was crying to her, very frightened of her death, leaving us alone, without our mother. I still had hope, we all did, but I truly felt in my bones she didn't have long with us.
I cried, "Mama, I'm so scared to lose you. I don't want you to go."
She said, in her typical no-nonsense manner, almost agitated that I was thinking so negatively--"I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here with you. God told me so."

So I held on to that--that was my hope. She saw something. But then again, my intuition told me, yes, she will be with me---but only in spirit.
And so it is.
I see her in photos I take, just days after her passing, on my birthday, and I see her in lights that blow/flash on and out. I ask that she comes to me when I sleep. But so far, I haven't seen that. Or at least, my brain/mind won't recall--even if I did.
Maybe, she wants me to grieve and cry and yell and get angry first... let it out. So then, I could accept and allow her to be truly gone.
For now, I look at at the lake, through the branches of the trees in front of the house, and I look at the birds fluttering about, and look up at the pale blue sky in early December, and feel the cold air settle in my bones. And for now, she's energy. She sees me, and feels me and she still loves me.
That's the most I can ask for now. And I feel like it's going to be OK.
After all, someday, I will die, too. And then, I'll get to see what all the fuss is about--unless I already know, and just 'forgot' temporarily.



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