MAY 2013

It was the day before Mother’s Day.  I was driving north from Albuquerque to Taos for a friend’s graduation party.  Mom was in the hospital – again – in California, and we had eased into a pattern of talking on the phone early in the morning before my siblings arrived at the hospital to spend the day with her.

Mom was approaching the end of her life and there were issues I desperately wanted to resolve with her.  We’d had a rough road together in this lifetime and I was struggling to make peace with the very real possibility that she would die without us healing the pain that lingered between us.

Our conversation that morning was an empty kind of casual for about 25 miles.  Then, there was a shift.  A subtle change in the energy.  An opening.  Knowing I shouldn’t have the conversation at 80 mph, I pulled off the freeway into the parking lot of the Camel Rock Casino just north of Santa Fe.

Mom and I had openings before … but this one was different.  This time we both stepped through and were met on the other side by Grace.  For the next two hours we had the conversation I’d been waiting for all my adult life.  Grace healed every injury we had imposed on each other and the pain of 57 years evaporated.  We even made plans for how we would communicate and recognize each other from across the veil.

I never made it to my friend’s party.  I sat in my car for hours, trembling with relief for the miracle that Grace delivered.  When I could finally move, I drove to the other side of the freeway and sat on the wall at the base of Camel Rock.  There, in a torrent of grateful tears, I called a friend to bear witness to the healing.

The following week I received a card from Mom – the last card she would ever send me.  Tucked inside, wrapped in tissue paper inside a Ziploc baggie, was a diamond necklace and a note that read: “May you never forget the life that pressed you into becoming a diamond.”

We never talked about that day again.  We didn’t need to. Our healing was complete and we were both freed.  We had seven glorious months to just enjoy each other before she passed that December.

I’m NOT DONE YET enjoying Mom … we have plans to meet up on the other side of the veil one day!