“These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be full.” John 15 : 11

Rita was a devout Catholic, raised during the depression and WWII. Like many of the “Greatest Generation,” she was a woman of faith: practical, frugal, steadfast and loving.

In many ways a conservative, she was also a trendsetter, fighting for Women’s Rights in the 1970s and speaking out against abortion. She dealt with things, issue by issue, addressing what was in front of her with clarity and integrity. 

During her final years when she was no longer able to drive and be the mover and shaker she had always been to us (president of more groups than I can count), Rita had refocused all her energy and attention on what she felt she could do. Limited in mobility, she spent her days at home, meditating. She read the Magnificat every day, prayed the Rosary, recited the Litany of the Hours and Novenas. She told me, “If I can’t go out into the world and make a difference, I’ll use my time and energy to pray for those who are still on the front lines.”

At 87, having suffered for several years from declining heath, and yet another hospitalization, the doctor came into her room to explain that there was really nothing more they could do for her. My sister, Amy and I, discussed her options with her. She could have a procedure done that would buy her a few more months, or do nothing and pass away within a matter of days or weeks.

Rita was fine with dying. If God wanted her home, who was she to resist His call?  She had only three requests:  One, she wanted to speak with her siblings (she was the eldest of seven and the matriarch of the family); two, she wanted to see a priest to hear her confession; and three, she didn’t want to be alone.  We explained to her, those were all reasonable requests and would be fulfilled.

We moved Rita to hospice. Relieved at her decision, she could now just relax as best she could. Visitors came while she was fading but she was always in good cheer. When her condition worsened, the compassionate hospice nurses kept us informed of everything and offered her as much comfort as they could. Sad as it was to say goodbye, we had all made our peace with it.

That night when life, as we know it, was draining out of Rita we were all asleep in her hospice room. Suddenly, Amy felt the need to get up. It was as if two angles raised her out of her cot, and she felt their presence guiding her to Mom’s bed. She could see my mother’s breathing had changed. She awakened me, instinctively. Both of us were at Mom’s side. We put a rosary in her hand, and held her hands whispering how much we loved her. I watched the slow pulse in her neck grow fainter and fainter until it stopped.  

Then it happened.

The room took on a golden hue, and a gentle, sweet odor wafted over us. An unbelievable feeling of JOY transfigured us and for just a moment, the veil between this world and the next opened. The love of God welcomed Rita home, and we knew all was well. It was more than well.

It was perfect. 

That was a life-changing experience for Amy and I. We rose up and hugged each other. Amy looked at me and said, “I feel…” and at the same, exact moment we both said JOY! We chattered on happily. Did you see that? Oh, my God! Why don’t I feel sad? We felt so content we were giggling with joy. When we finally called the nurse in to confirm Rita’s passing, she noticed our buoyant spirits. All fear of death disappeared that night.

What a gift our Mother left us.

For the months and years to follow, we continue to miss our mother. We are reminded of her when we make her recipes, and think about some of her sayings.  We are strengthened by her courage and faith facing her down death. We relive that joy and value the gift we received. Never once in our recollections, did we feel any doubt that she had been welcomed into the kingdom that was prepared for her.

I have always understood that the Gospel is the Good News. Now when I meditate on the scriptures and the words of Jesus, I experience the good news, not as some abstract concept, but as a living experience that transforms my life and uplifts my soul. Meditation, for me now, is an opportunity to experience God’s joy and loving embrace.  

I no longer wonder if there is a heaven because, for one brief moment, I got a glimpse of heaven on earth and experienced a reality where God offers us peace and joy beyond understanding.

—Muara Johnston