God Opened a Window

She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along.
- Margaret Culkin Banning

As I sat in the pew, my best friend affix securely, as always, to my side, I watched one mourner after the next approach my mother's casket. There is usually a large turn out when someone dies young and, at points, the line was out the door of the grey stone church. I'd been baptised and confirmed in that church and, a few years later, I'd be married there.

Hours earlier we'd had the family viewing. I'd shopped the day before for her outfit. She'd always felt sassy in red, so I'd selected a simple red silk blouse and black trousers. The mortician had suggested purchasing a scarf, to hide the incisions on her neck, and a wig. Along with the scarf, I'd selected a small gold broach to be used as a clasp. The wig I'd chosen was a close match to her short, curly cut. After receiving the approval of my siblings, I placed the outfit and accessories in a single shopping bag and dropped it off at the funeral home without a word of instruction.

As I neared her casket, I saw my mother's small, still form adourned in the garments I'd chosen for her. Staring first at her hands, I couldn't bare to look at her face, I realized that would be the last moment I'd have with my mother... that was the last moment I was truly myself. After a few seconds my eyes travelled to her face. I missed her so terribly already. As my eyes began to sting from the tears, I saw them. The broach had been part of a set and had come with small gold earrings. I hadn't removed the earrings from the box, and the mortician had taken it upon himself to peirce my mother's ears. She'd never pierced her ears and chided me each time I'd suggested piercing mine. Despite the several savage surgeries she'd endured over the past two weeks, it was the piercing of her ears that I felt was most brutal... and it was my fault. I hadn't removed the earrings from the damn box.

Later, as I sat off to the side of the church, resenting every word of condolence offered to me, I berated myself for not removing the earrings from the box. In my entire life, it would be the only opportunity I would be given to take care of my mother and I'd failed. Fifteen years later I 'd still feel disappointed in myself.

As the crowd began to thin and the evening came to a close, he walked through the door and down to my mother's casket. He kneeled, said a brief prayer, stood up and walked toward me. I heard my mother's voice... when God closes a door, he opens a window.