In memorial on a hill

May 9, 2019 By

I have had so many emotions since my Mom’s death. My dad asked me to give the eulogy which has resulted in lots of laughter and tears as the wonderful tributes from her family and friends have poured in. On the final night she was alive, she quietly told my brother, “I want to go home.”

The spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow. -Alma 40:11-12

Today, I will participate in the sacred practice of dressing her in her temple clothes, a family viewing tonight, followed by her graveside service tomorrow.

I didn’t leave the house on the day she died but the next afternoon, I rode my bike to the top of Memorial Hill in the middle of our mountain hamlet. The site is dedicated to those from our valley who have served in any United States military conflict and it is a place we hold sacred. I was mercifully alone (it’s a popular destination) and I plopped myself down on the grass in front of the “Final Salute” bronze statue of a soldier’s boots, gun and helmet as I looked out over the valley. I talked to her, REALLY talked to her, something I haven’t been able to do since the illness took over a few years ago. I told her I missed her. That I was sorry for her suffering but that she was finally free. That her teenage grandchildren really need her help and even on the other side, I knew she would be in a position to call upon other ministering angels from our family to guide, comfort and inspire. I know this because I have felt her mom and dad–my Grandma and Grandpa Wilde–protecting me during some of my most vulnerable times.
As I sat in silence overlooking our view, a light breeze rolled through the valley, rustling the dog tags hanging from the statue. They read: “To all in God’s Grace. Never Forgotten.” 
For the first time, I noticed a bell attached to the front of one of the boots. How peculiar, I thought, and I reached over to ring it, chuckling with surprise that it actually worked as I remembered Jamie’s favorite movie, It’s A Wonderful Life:  “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”
She was there with me on that hilltop and it was a tender moment as it was confirmed that she would be looking out for me and our family…and that I could go to this special place whenever we needed to talk and that she would never be far away.

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