by Marie Brousseau
My mother is walking beside me as I am shopping in a grocery store, talking about nothing in particular. It is rather dark. I feel her presence but cannot see her anymore. I open my eyes. It was a dream…
My mother passed away over ten years ago. I dream about her regularly. She is always alive in my dreams. I marvel at this fact while I am dreaming, being well aware that she is deceased. Dreams are funny that way. I once heard that dreams are an escape valve for our subconscious thoughts.
A few weeks after my mother’s death, I was speaking with one of her younger sisters. My aunt told me that grief can last for years. I guess she was right. Even though I am now happily married and have a very active life and event-filled career as a high school teacher and writer, I think about my mother every day. She was such an integral part of my life when she was alive. Her death was not the end of my relationship with her; in fact, I believe that she has been interceding for me for the past ten years.
I am an only child. My mother loved children and wanted to have lots of them. My father left us after only three years of marriage. I am a child of divorce. My mom raised me single-handedly, sacrificing her life for me. She always wanted the best for me. I made it through high school and university with her constant assistance and support. She steadfastly encouraged me in all my endeavors, telling me that I could have any career I wanted. She loved to read my school essays, believing that I could become a writer one day. She instilled in me moral and religious values. She had a contagious sense of humor, was warm-hearted and always sincere. Everyone loved her.
Even when she became ill with diabetes and heart disease, and then cancer, her inner beauty shined forth. She was even beautiful outwardly. The nurses at the hospital would exclaim how young and wholesome she looked. When she lay dying in palliative care, the last week of her earthly life, her doctor cried tears of sadness. I will never forget those intense days of hoping against hope that she would somehow survive the kidney failure and overwhelming metastasis of the cancer that had overtaken her body. The hospital chaplain gave her the last rites while I was kneeling by her hospital bed. Three days before the end, she spoke for the last time, telling me that she loved me and would miss me, while gently stroking my hair and smiling. She fell into mute semi-consciousness shortly thereafter. She died in my arms. I held her for thirty minutes before finally letting go. To this day, these lasting memories still bring tears to my eyes.
The numbness of those first days following her death were dreamlike; somehow, I got through the funeral arrangements, notifications, and all the other duties that death entails. It was only after the funeral that I was able to come to full terms with my loss.
My faith helped me through the first few months of intense bereavement and the feelings of loneliness which assailed me. Providentially, Pope Francis had declared an Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy Holy Year starting in December 2015, to last until November 2016. We have a Cathedral in my city which had the amazing blessing of being designated as one of the sites to have a Holy Door of Mercy that year. This became my way of coping with my grief.
Sunday Morning Before Mass, Boris Vasilievich Smirnov, 1904
For an entire month, every single day, after work, I would walk three kilometers from my home to the Cathedral, as a mini pilgrimage, praying all the way. A plenary indulgence was granted to those who entered through the Holy Door of Mercy and who fulfilled the usual conditions of confession, communion and specific prayers and acts of mercy. Plenary indulgences can be applied to oneself or to a soul in purgatory. I obviously asked God to apply the indulgence to my mother’s soul. After Holy Mass, I would walk back home, marking a total of six kilometers travelled on foot for each daily indulgence for my mom. I gradually began to feel better emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I realized later how this devotion was instrumental in helping me work through my grief. I was handing everything over to God, trusting that He would take care of my mother’s soul, with my prayerful participation. This being said, I continue to pray daily for my mother’s soul; I feel closer to her if I continue asking our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ to take care of her. Whether my mother is in heaven or in purgatory is something only God knows for sure. I can only hope that she is in heaven and trust in His mercy.
This experience of praying for indulgences for my mom brought me closer to God and to the souls in purgatory. I extended my mini pilgrimages to gain indulgences for the souls of other deceased members of my family and friends. I started to go to confession more often. I spoke openly of my faith to others. Life was slowly becoming enjoyable again. My grief was incrementally becoming less acute. I met my future husband, got married, moved to a different part of the city, and started a new teaching job. In other words, my life was going splendidly. I am convinced that my mother was, and still is, interceding for me.
In good times and bad times, I have a morning prayer routine which includes offering everything to God, reciting my favorite prayers, and continuing to pray for the repose of my mother’s soul. When I need help with a particular issue, I ask my mother to intercede for me. It is a traditional Catholic belief that the souls in purgatory can intercede for us; as the Catechism of the Catholic Church states in paragraph 958: “…because it is a holy and a wholesome thought to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins… Our prayer for them is capable not only of helping them, but also of making their intercession for us effective.” This is part of the communion of saints which we profess to believe when we recite the Creed every Sunday at Holy Mass. I do believe that our loved ones who have gone before us continue to love us and intercede for us. It is part of the theological virtue of hope that enables us to continue living with joy in our hearts since we believe in God and in eternal life, and that one day we will be reunited with our loved ones.
May the souls of the faithful departed forever rest in peace, by the grace of God. Amen.
Marie Brousseau is a Canadian teacher and essayist whose life and work are deeply shaped by her Catholic faith. She is married and brings both personal and professional dedication to her vocation as an educator. Her first book, Defending Human Dignity: Catholic Answers to Gender, Abortion and Relativism is a testament to her belief in God and adherence to the teachings of the Catholic Church. She is currently working on her second book about hope being the Christian response to evil. For more information about Marie, visit her website or find her on X.