If only looks were everything, then my mother would have had it all.

My mom passed away yesterday, December 6th, 2010, at about 2:30 in the morning.

It's been a long time, but she was finally relieved of her suffering and welcomed back to where she was always meant to be: a far better place than here on earth.

I was looking through old albums last night--a very typical post-death activity, no doubt--and it's always strange to see people you've always considered "old" since the time you were born... young, and realize that, that's right, they had an entire lifetime behind them too. The archetype of a "mother" seems so timeless that it's hard for someone young like me to imagine my mom in any other role.

But I think what's especially interesting is that my mom's face (biological thanks to my grandma) never really changed. 20 years later, she still looked pretty much the same... until the last year when she lost all of that. But maybe it's convenient at least for me that I'll always have the same face in my memory, her forever youthful and cheerful expression, an immortal image of a woman who wasn't as immortal as I had thought after all.

Still, my mother was so beautiful. She will always be beautiful to me.




The moral of this entry? Let's see. That we'll all eventually die, I suppose.

I know this has become the cliche thing to ponder about, the repetitive theme of too many pieces of literature, the conclusion that all science points to. We know that people die, that there are seasons, there are generations, there are civilizations. We have evidence of it in history and we hear about it everyday. We know it as a fact.

But we will never, ever be able to understand it. We have no idea what it means to live and die--and to no surprise; after all, who has lived and died before and come back to tell the tale?

All I know is that my mother is so very beautiful.