Remembrance

infinity cross tattoo

Today is mom’s funeral.

We all knew this day would come, but it came quicker than we all anticipated. It hurts. I cannot tell you how much it hurts. There are no words…

Mom fought like a tiger. From the day she learned that she had lung cancer, she fought. She tried every treatment they offered her, and fully believed that she would still be with us for Christmas. That hope disappeared exactly three weeks before she passed, when the oncologist told her that they could do nothing more for her, except to treat any infections she might get, such as pneumonia. Then, a week later, mom was done. She wanted rest. She knew the end was upon her. A couple of days later she was transferred to a hospice, where she died 8 days later.

During this process she reconnected with her faith – something that had always been smoldering below the surface. Her faith was never completely gone, just sort of dormant. The day after her birthday, she told me her wishes for her funeral – the songs she wanted, the pieces from the Bible. She asked that the minister of the church come to see her, and he did. She became a member of the church again a month before she passed. The minister came to see her again. Each time he was with her, he prayed for her, prayed that she might find peace with God. He prayed that she may find her spot in heaven.

The day after he prayed for her the last time, or maybe it even was the same day, I saw an episode of Grace & Frankie and in it this was said:

The afterlife is how you’re remembered by the living. Hitler was evil. He will always be remembered as evil. He’s in hell. Mother Teresa was holy and good. She will always be remembered for that. That’s heaven.

Guess where my mom will be?

I have been raised in the Reformed Church, but left the church behind me when I was about 20. I had too many experiences with hypocrite people – people calling themselves Christians and who attended church every Sunday, but their daily actions didn’t speak of Christianity at all. That was the time where I stopped talking about what I believe. This post is not to start talking about that either.

During the last month of mom’s life an idea started in my head. I wanted a tattoo to honor her. I wanted to carry something with me every day, to have her with me always. I had no idea what, until I saw an infinity cross. My love for her is infinite and the cross symbolizes her faith, but also that I believe in the good of humanity. I believe that the good will always outweigh the bad.

I want the tattoo to be done on my wrist, but when I told Master T about this, he reminded me of a very important fact: mom didn’t like tattoos. She always said she was against it. Then, in hospital, about two weeks before she died and on the second night I slept with her, she asked me to turn around so she could see the tattoo on my back. She said she liked it, that she liked it more than a black tattoo. Maybe my wrist is not the best place to do it and maybe black tones (my initial idea) is not a good idea either. But whether the tattoo is a bad idea? I have no idea. I think mom would have approved, and if she didn’t approve it, she would at least have understood.

I need to think about this a bit more before I make my final decision…

© Rebel’s Notes

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