Death arrested our family last week. As the reality of mortality does so well, the extraneous falls away. The distilled essence of what matters becomes clear.
This dear one, who would lie in the road for me even before I married her nephew, was a spitfire of a woman. She fought hard and loved harder. We had our frustrations in the midst of all the joy. There wasn’t a big blow up or rift that severed, but just the typical troubles between two imperfect people who love each other.
Here’s the thing: we always worked it out. I am mourning the future we won’t have together on this earth, but I am free from mourning unresolved conflict with her.
I sat at the table where we ate, played, talked, shouted, cried, and—oh my—laughed. Surrounded by the flowers and the cards and the people she loved and who loved her, there was a peace. Not only because of her deep faith, but also because I knew we were at peace with one another.
Go make peace.
This is what I am imploring: go be the one who opens your hand in peace. The person who just popped into your mind right now? Start with that person.
This vapor we call life may float away before you realize. Go make peace.