My mother died 20 years ago this week. Two decades that went faster than two decades of the family rosary when my favorite TV show was on. In one more decade I’ll be her age at the time of her death. Our Christian faith teaches that Mom lives on and on and on. Besides growing ever deeper in her loving, praising, thanking adoration in eternal life, she lives on and on in our family’s lives.
All children like to think that they are their parents’ favorite. Don’t tell my siblings, but I know I was Mom’s favorite. She was always looking out for me—probably because I needed her watchful eye more. She knew when I needed quiet time and time to talk deeply. Back in the 50s pudding was always cooked. I’d watch for the time when Mom set the pudding on the stove, and I knew she couldn’t move away for several minutes. Then I’d share the deep stuff of my mind and heart, and she listened attentively.
I know Mom and Dad listen attentively to my prayers asking for their intercession. Like Jesus Christ whom they now perpetually adore, they answer. All I need to do is ask. And they answer. Of course, I’m their favorite.