“Dr. Matthew,” She Says

Every once in a while I scroll through my voice mails to find that one from Mom, sent about a month before she died. Bracing myself for the emotions I know I will feel I push the right facing triangle and listen to her voice with that beautiful Southern lilt. “Dr. Matthew,” she says, and then she proceeds to tell me what is on her mind. I sit and cry. Again. She died five years ago but it seems like this morning. Grief is a strange companion, but grieve we must. In Christ we do so as those with extraordinary hope. I know I will see her again.