During this season of Easter I always reflect on Mary and her love for her son and how she endured the agony of watching her son helplessly as he was persecuted and crucified by the Romans and drew his last breath with her love and presence by his side. As the story goes it was the women who stayed during the entire process but the men fled from the town with shock and terror. I read this once at ...a convent that I was staying at in Melbourne Kentucky. It was at a time when I would go there and find respite being surrounded by wonderful women that truly cared for me and comforted me just by their mere presence. On a comedic aspect they tried to recruit me even though I was married. They said “so some of us have been married”. That was their way of making me feel welcome. I even on some occasions, found myself fixing things like leaky faucets, squeaky doors and other little maintenance items until one of the sisters handed me an application. Lol. On the reflection of Mary, it was during the earliest days, months and years after the loss of my son that I was drawn to her. She would come to me in my dreams and inspired many of my early Mandala works. It didn’t really imbue in me until I was in Rome at the Vatican and saw the powerful work of art by Michelangelo, the Piata. As I approached and began gazing at the magnificent piece, I found my focus drawn to Mary’s face, it was then I realized the resonating connection. I felt her pain and I had to look away. It was too much at once as I knew the exact feeling of holding my son on my lap after he died. It is beyond words to describe as I have tried so many times but is a feeling that only a mother that has lost a child knows. I don’t even try anymore as I have not discovered any words that remotely come close. It was Mary’s spiritual connection that carried me on my heavy darkest of nights, when I couldn’t breathe another breath of sorrow. I knew that she survived and so must I and it was her that was with me. My dreams of her were warm and light as every essence of my soul was encircled by her love the way I too loved my son. My son was persecuted by voices caused by an illness that ultimately took him from me on June 10, 2005. So now I too have found a new way of having a spiritual relationship with my son knowing that he is at peace from the demons that tortured him like the Romans tortured Christ, he will suffer no more. Yes…..I miss him every day and the thought of living the rest of my life without him here is daunting to I must stay into today. Eventually my days turned into weeks, months and finally years that I learned how to not only just survive this life, but truly live now. It was my son who taught me what love, grace and courage really is and in order fully live a life of purpose and meaning. So on this Easter I am overcome by such gratitude for the sacrifice of Christ for our lives and the gift of having my son for the time that he was here. Without Brad, I would not be even remotely as to who I have become today. Thank you Brad for your life, your love and your sweet soul. I will wait patiently all the days of my life until we meet again………
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