Fireflies

March 20, 2023

My friend’s mom has begun transitioning from this life—her life on earth—to the next.

As I write the word life, I imagine it as something you could click on–

A link that would open into everything that made her, her—

who she loved, who loved her,

the stories, the colors,

the wealth of laughter,

the quiet moments no one else saw.

All of it.

Her transition from here to there—where loved ones are waiting for her on the other

side—

is allowing me to see this time, right now, more clearly.

How we all get our very own canvas.

Her canvas is filled with her family—those nearby and those who have traveled from far away because she asked them to come.

And they have come.

It feels like invisible watercolors, slowly becoming visible.

Layer by layer.

Soft at first, then unmistakable.

And it is making her happy.

She is not afraid to die.

And that is a real kind of joy.

We don’t all get to experience that.

My dear friend is physically drained.

But mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, she is wide awake.

When she closes her eyes, she says she can see the threads of love that connect everyone.

“As if we are all fireflies—small orbs of light—sharing the same quiet, peaceful space.”

Only what matters exists there.

She tells me, "It is a space of Love, with a capital L.

It is God.

It is peaceful.

And it is real."

She can feel her own orbit of fireflies—

her friends, her people, as she calls us.

All the classes she’s been taking for pastoral work have brought her to this moment—

“A calling with a capital C,” she says,

"because this,

this is where I am called to be."

In this space, she knows her purpose.

She knows it comes from her God.

All her skills—as a counselor and self-appointed (by default–aren’t they all?) family organizer—have come together to create this firefly-lit space.

Her intention was clear from the beginning of her mother’s ending:

“This is your show, Mom. I will follow your lead.”

She became her mother’s voice—

carrying her last wishes into the room.

Her family surrounding her.

“Where’s James?” her mom worried to one of the visitors in the room.

James is her husband.

Someone responds, “He’s home, making you the mashed garlic potatoes you asked for.”

Upon hearing this, the family organizer immediately phones James, "Turn off the boiling water. Leave the potatoes on the stove. Get your ass over here.”

James says, “But she wanted mashed potatoes!”.

She holds the phone away from her ear, “Ma, do you want mashed potatoes or James?”

James won.

He turns off the stove and shows up soon after. He stays for the remainder of her time here.

…

March 21, 2023

She has gone.

Eventually, the firefly connection will fade back into invisible watercolor fireflies…

Still there,

just returned to its quiet, unnoticeable state.