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A mother's love never dies

It lives as long as she does

Written by Connie Small, December 17, 2000

I have always been and always will be, a worrier. For the most part, I worry about my children. When they were babies, I worried about their needs. Were they hungry, tired, cold, hot, wet, hurting? If they were quiet, I worried they were sick. If they went to play at a friends house, I worried until they came back. I worried each time they climbed aboard the big yellow bus, praying that their ride would be a safe one. Did they like school? Was their teacher one of the best? Were they learning what they should? Were the other kids nice?

With driver's licenses, new worries came along. Bigger ones. If it was ten minutes before time for them to arrive home, I worried because they weren't there yet. If they were ten minutes late, I worried that they had been in an accident, especially in bad weather. Were they being pressured by peers into doing something they shouldn't? There were so many temptations to avoid. Were they studying hard enough? Did they know where they wanted to go in life?

When they became adults and had children of their own, I thought I'd finally be able to stop worrying. But I didn't. The worries change a little, but still remain. Only now, the worries include the grandchildren. Are they happy? Is there anything they need? Are they safe?

Even though Cassy is gone, I find I still worry about her. Her soul. Is she in Heaven? Or does Heaven exist? If not, where is she? Is she in the place where she visits in our dreams? Will I ever see her again? Will she know who I am? Will I know her? Is she happy? Does she have any regrets? Did she have love in her heart for the One who could save her? If not, can the prayers of a loving mother speak for her in her place?

I could go on and on. I've been an emotional mess the last week and am at a loss to figure out why. I thought the pain was supposed to lessen in time. Instead, it gets worse by the day. I'm so confused. I guess I want answers to questions that can't be answered. It's almost 4:00 in the morning. I've spent the last seven hours or so, writing everything in my heart. I guess it helps. I've been told it will. I'd just like to know when it's going to start. If it's helping now, I sure don't want to stop. But each time I write, I do so through my tears. People keep telling me, "Time is the only thing that can help now." "In time, your pain will ease." I still count the hours since she's been gone. It seems as though it was just yesterday that she left. But it was five weeks and six days.

How much longer before the pain starts to ease, instead of getting worse? When will I reach the plateau that will bring my poor heart rest?