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       #Post#: 81--------------------------------------------------
       Mom’s Last Laugh
       By: Admin Date: June 12, 2013, 11:03 pm
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       Consumed by my loss, I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew
       where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend — my
       mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The
       hurt was so intense, I found it hard to breathe at times.
       Always supportive, mother clapped loudest at my school plays,
       held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak,
       comforted me at my father’s death, encouraged me in college, and
       prayed for me my entire life.
       When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby
       and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so
       it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without
       entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.
       “What now, Lord?” I asked sitting in church. My life stretched
       out before meas an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with
       his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand.
       My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms
       around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving,
       no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother,
       preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor,
       seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she
       was with the Lord. My work was finished and I was alone.
       I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church.
       Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated
       young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He
       folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were
       brimming with tears.
       He began to sniffle. ”I’m late,” he explained, though no
       explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned
       over and commented, “Why do they keep calling Mary by the name
       of ‘Margaret’?”
       “Oh” “Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one
       called her ‘Mary,’ I whispered. I wondered why this person
       couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He
       interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was
       this stranger anyway?
       “No, that isn’t correct,” he insisted, as several people glanced
       over at us whispering, “Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.”
       “That isn’t who this is, I replied..”
       “Isn’t this the Lutheran church?”
       “No, the Lutheran church is across the street.”
       “Oh.”
       “I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.”
       The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the
       man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter.
       I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted
       as sobs.
       The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners
       only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the
       bewildered, misguided man seated beside me.He was laughing, too,
       as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful
       exit.
       I imagined mother laughing.
       At the final “Amen,” we darted out a door and into the parking
       lot. “I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,” he smiled. He
       said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s
       funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.
       That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who
       attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place.
       A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church
       where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at
       the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave
       me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past
       June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary.
       Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, “Her mother
       and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in
       heaven.”
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