Whether you believe in God or not, this parable helps us reflect on the idea that even after a person’s death more than their memory stays with us.

The young mother set her foot on the path of life. “Is the way long?”
she asked. And her guide said, “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be
old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the
beginning.” But the young mother was happy and she would not believe that
anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children
and gathered flowers for them along the way and bathed with them in the
clear streams; and the sun shone on them and life was good, and the young
mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

Then night came, and storm, and the path was dark and the children
shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them
with her mantle and the children said “O mother, we are not afraid, for you
are near, and no harm can come,” and the mother said, “This is better than
the brightness of day, for I have taught my children courage.”

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead and the children
climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary, but at all times she said
to the children, “A little patience and we are there.” So the children
climbed and when they reached the top, they said. “We could not have done it
without you, mother.” And the mother, when she lay down that night, looked
up at the stars and said, “This is a better day than the last, for my
children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave
them courage, today I have given them strength.”

And the next day came strange clouds, which darkened the earth—clouds
of war and hate and evil—and the children groped and stumbled and the
mother said, “Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.” And the children
looked and saw above the clouds an Everlasting Glory, and it guided them and
brought them beyond the darkness. And that night the mother said, “This is
the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.”

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and
the mother grew old, and she was little and bent. But her children were
tall and strong and walked with courage. And when the way was rough they
lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a
hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates
flung wide.

And the mother said, “I have reached the end of my journey. And now I
know that the end is better than the beginning for my children can walk
alone, and their children after them.”

And the children said, “You will always walk with us, Mother, even when
you have gone through the gates.”

And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates
closed after her. And they said, “We cannot see her, but she is with us
still. A mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a Living Presence.”

~Temple Bailey (American novelist and short story writer)

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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