God’s Answer

By Miriam Weiser

I was forty-one years old, about to marry off my oldest child and expecting my youngest. At this age, pregnancy didn’t come easy. It was my seventh pregnancy, and my body felt too old to be carrying again. My bones were achy all the time. I had great difficulty moving around in general and twisting and turning from side to side in bed, as I found myself doing several times a night. My hips were pleading for me to stay on the couch, but I had things to do. I had a family to take care of and a wedding to plan.

Two-thousand thirteen was the worst year of my life, worse still than 2020. Contrary to the way I felt about my body being pregnant at my advanced age, I felt too young to be losing my mother.

When she was finally diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor in August, after about six months of visiting doctors for various ailments including minor and ultimately severe seizures, my siblings and I were numb. Not ones to lament loudly or with great distress, most of us rather dealt with this news the easiest way possible. That was denial. It’s been seven and a half years and I still don’t think I’ve properly dealt with the news of my mother’s death.

I spent two days a week at my sister’s house where my mother stayed during her illness in between hospital stays. While there, I made some calls regarding wedding details and tried to get stuff accomplished. I sang songs to my mother, who sat on the recliner motionless and emotionless. I spent the time my mother slept being emotionally there for my…