My mother passed away a week ago. I normally avoid the phrase ‘passed away’ because I don’t see anything wrong with saying ‘she died,’ but I know that some people are more sensitive than I am.

Since that morning last Monday, I have had many wonderful friends and family pause to ask me how I’m doing.

Even when I tell them that I’m doing fine, they sometimes sustain a sad, serious expression on their brows, their concern holding the corners of their mouths firm. Even when I smile and say “No, I’m okay. Really,” their sweet impulse is to comfort me, to show their love and support. God bless them.

But I can’t hold it in any longer. I’m happier now that she’s gone than I was when she was here. I think I’m not alone here, not just as concerns my mother, but I think many, many people know the relief and happiness I’m talking about when an elderly loved one for whom every day was a misery finally leaves this world.

I’ll tell you what made me grieve: seeing her here, still alive, in pain, in anguish, decaying steadily, feeling lonely and afraid even with people around. I would go away from my visits with her sad and heavy-hearted.

Not anymore.

I am so happy that her suffering is over.

Will I miss her? Of course. But the heaviness of the next weeks or months of my missing her does not compare with my relief at seeing her released from her earthly bonds.

She’s happy. I’m happy. Everything is better now.

I prayed for this. Thank God she’s gone.