On April 4, I received the news that my mother had suffered a massive stroke on the left side of her brain. Rather than subject her to an aggressive surgery that offered no promise for a meaningful recovery, my father and I made the wrenching decision to let nature take its course and allow her to die in peace. She did, two days later, on April 6, 2016.

I am the sole Catholic in my family: my mother was a Lutheran-turned-Episcopalian, and my father is an Episcopalian-turned-atheist. I am also an only child. For that reason, my father and I decided against holding an official funeral or memorial service; my mother’s cremains currently reside in a jar in my father’s dresser drawer.

Our weekly School of Community just happened to occur 24 hours after my mother’s death. I knew that I wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around, but I went, as I felt that I needed the company of friends at that time. There, I presented the group with two of the several problems I faced: the fact that my mother would have no lasting memorial, aside from a jar of ashes, and the fact that I needed closure, as I’d had no chance to say goodbye. (Our last conversation was about sausage left on a kitchen counter.)

About two weeks later, on April 17, after I made several trips to Lowe’s and Steubenville’s treasure, Union Cemetery (voted 2nd most beautiful in the country!), our 7:30 PM Thursday School of Community gathered to dedicate a memorial Colorado blue spruce, planted free of charge by the cemetery association, and closely neighboring Steubenville’s other treasure, Harding Stadium. In lieu of an actual funeral mass, we prayed the Office for the Dead. I tried to lead, but I kept breaking down in tears, so others had to jump in and take the reins. One uncomfortable truth I had to learn very quickly in the wake of my mother’s stroke is that a person simply is not strong enough to handle a sadness this large, and it really is okay to rely on friends to pick up the slack.

I suppose, in fact, the point of this episode of my life is learning how not to be strong and how to be content with being a wreck for a little while. I guarantee that, had it not been for the numerous prayers offered for me, my father, and my mother, I would not have been able to handle my mother’s stroke, profound brain damage, and eventual death. It hasn’t even been a month yet, either, so there are places where I can’t quite allow my mind to wander; for that reason, I have to entrust part of the prayers on my mother’s behalf to my friends, both in CL and outside, both Catholic and Protestant.

As a result of grace (there’s no other explanation), my father and I have been in agreement on nearly all of the difficult decisions we’ve had to make. Numerous opportunities for conflict presented themselves, but we were “on the same page” in almost everything. Eventually, I decided that our one sticking point wasn’t worth the argument and additional sorrow, so I dropped it. I suppose one benefit of sudden loss is that one’s priorities suddenly fall into place.

I read somewhere that the pain of loss never truly goes away, but one learns to make room for it in one’s heart. I hope that’s true. Until then, I’ll probably continue to cry at my mom’s little tree and rely on the prayers of my friends in this most challenging period of my life.