Kneeling in deference to the rituals of her youth, “Holy Mary Mother of God,” she prayed, stumbling over the words, searching for a faith that had long eluded her, “surely You, must understand?” The ceiling fan in the hospital chapel rattled in an off-balance cadence; tilting on its axis, much like the grieving mother. No whispered answers, no shroud of peace, no closer to understanding; she rose from the bench and returned to the ICU. Alone with her decision, she nodded yes, it was time to let go. The machinery stopped.
In the silence that followed, her child reached the light, a guiding Mother’s hand ensuring safe passage.
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