« Open Vigil | Main | Will it Work? »

January 24, 2013


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.


Momista died at 3:50 pm EST today.

The text from Matissta simply said:

"Night has come."


I am so sorry for your stunning and irreplaceable loss.

She whom we love
and lose
is no longer
where she was before.
She is now
wherever we are.

~St. John Chrysostom


Dear, sweet Matissta. I'm so very sorry. I love the picture of your Mom. Her eyes sparkle with spunk. And I say that with all the respect in the world.


I'm so sad for you, Matiss, as you have another profound loss to grieve. I'm thankful you had these last few weeks to see your mom, keep vigil, and ensure comfort in her final days on earth. She was a great mom and you are a great daughter and sister. Thank you for letting us share a tiny bit of your burden with you. We all love you very much.


Dear Matissta, I wish you comfort. I wish you love. I wish you reprieve. May the adepts stand with you, silent sentinels, full of respect and fondness for you.
I too love the picture of your Mom. What a young beauty.


I'm sorry for your loss.


Thank you all.

I am over at Matissta's, but haven't been able to sleep. I hope to post some of the other beautiful comments that have arrived in separate emails.


From Donnista -- a very dear TRM colleague:

"My very deep and sincere sympathy to you, Matissta and family. Continuing to hold you all close in thought and prayer. I am so very sorry."


In a separate email from PEACEsista:

"OH! I am so, so sorry. This is a stunning and irreplaceable loss. I
am holding you all close to my heart and praying for peace for Momista
on her journey beyond and for Matissta, who must remain behind and
find a way to continue without her mom. And for you, dear Flann, who
must stand at a distance and try to discern how you can possibly
support the love of your life through this impossibly hard time. So
much love to you all, PEACE"


barista sent links to two stunningly beautiful songs [I plan to order the CD] and wrote, "So sad for both of you".

barista was also the first person to call me.


From neighbor, Sassley:

"my love to both of you...holding you, Matissta, Momista, and her entire family in my thoughts.

i am so very sorry to know you all will be sitting with this shock, grief, and sorrow.

with all your sensitivity and wisdom, i know you will be such a good rock for A to lean on. and of course, i will always be across the grass..."


From Lovasista:

"We are all so taken back, our hearts go out to you all."


From Charlissta:

"May angels attend Momista and may angels comfort Matissta and all who love them both.

1000 blessings"


From my pastor friend, Carol:

"God give Momista rest and light everlasting in God's nearer presence.

God give those who have loved and cared for her peace and strength for this journey through loss."


From a TRM colleague who is a very accomplished young writer:

"Oh, Flann. I'm so very sorry for both you and Matissta. As much as I love words, they fail me. Please know that I'm sending warm thoughts and love and whatever good ju-ju I can find your way."


From singlemommasista:

"I'm so sorry. That is a beautiful, sweet and sad text. I love you both."


From our priest:

"I am so sorry Flannista. Please extend my deepest condolences to Matissta and know tonight my prayers surround you as well. Know that I am here to be of support in any way I can for you both. Don't hesitate to call upon me. I am here.

The comfort of God hold you tightly and gently."


Today would have been my sister Karen's 58th birthday.


Good morning, Flann. Such a circle of love, care and concern standing around Matiss as she grieves for her Mom. Matiss, I hope you were able to sleep last night, and find at least moments of rest.


An email from my oldest sister this morning:

"I just saw this. God bless you Matissta, and your beloved mother."


Flannista, please give our condolences and many hugs to Mattista, we are so sorry to hear about Momista. And hugs to you, too - it is the hardest thing to not be able to take away a beloved's pain and grief. Please let us know if we can provide a respite.


Thank you, Bnb. Matiss may have mentioned that Momista had had surgery when we saw you a couple of weeks ago. This has all been so sudden and unexpected. I know that Matiss will be touched to read your comment. Thank you for loving us so well.


I'm sorry I didn't see your post until just now. I almost feel as though I don't know Matiss well enough to have the right to try to offer comfort. But I remember how it felt when my mother died many years ago. Through that whole painful process, I remember many sweet moments and many wrenching, tearful ones, especially at the end when she was in hospice. No matter how old you are when your mother dies, you still feel like an orphan, like a little girl who lost her mommy. Flann, bnb is so right about wanting to take away a beloved's pain. When my son is sick or hurting, I would give anything to be able to take it on myself. So I hug you, too, from a distance. I love you both very much.


Pachasista, your comment brought instant tears.

For 44 years . . . how well you have loved me and now my beloved Matissta.


An email from our beloved friend, Sara:

Dearest Matiss:

I found this poem this morning and thought it was befitting to how I imagined your mom to be based on the stories I heard about her.

May you find some solace during this time with the love and support of your beloveds. You had one special Ma (that’s how we say it up north) and she is lucky to have you as a daughter. As I write this, I can see you standing in front of a fireplace telling great stories about her. Please know that you are in my daily thoughts and prayers.

Much love and sorrow, Sara

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!

Mary Frye (1932)

The comments to this entry are closed.