When my mom passed away from cancer at the age of fourty-nine, our family entered into a season of vast darkness. My children were young, just eight, five, and not quite two and this loss hit us all like a sledgehammer.
I was caught in the eye of a storm—unable to hold myself together—but I had to also keep my children from falling apart. Nighttime proved to be the worst, and inevitably we would all end up a crying heap on the bed. I wondered during those months if we would ever see light again. Would we smile? Would we find joy in anything?
