Danielle | Germany

God was closer than I thought.

← Read Part 2

And yet…
in the midst of this inner battle…

the Lord gave me a dream.

A dream so real
that when I woke up,
I struggled to accept
that it had not truly happened.

I saw my mother again.

She was beautiful.

Radiant.
Peaceful.
Filled with joy.

She was dressed in white.

And she seemed to carry a light
that did not belong to this world.

Something pure.
Alive.
Heavenly.

We walked together.

For a long time.

We talked about everything and nothing.
We laughed.

Like before.

As if nothing had ever happened.

As if she had never left.

And for a few moments…

everything felt complete again.

I felt safe.

At home.

As though my heart had finally found again
what it had been missing for so long.

But then…

I woke up.

And the moment I realized
it had only been a dream…

something inside me collapsed all over again.

Reality hit me with brutal force.

She was gone.

And that emptiness…

felt even greater than before.

I cried.

Deeply.

Like someone
exhausted down to the soul.

Like someone
who no longer knew how to carry
such unbearable pain.

But without even realizing it…

something had begun to change inside me.

Not suddenly.

Not dramatically.

Gently.

Very gently.

As if God had begun rebuilding,
in silence,
the broken pieces of my heart.

The anger that had lived inside me
for so long
slowly began to lose its strength.

And underneath that anger…

there was still something else.

An immense sadness.
A deep ache.
A loneliness difficult to explain.

But also…

the first signs
of inner healing.

One day,
in the middle of my distress,

the Holy Spirit reminded me
of a phrase my mother used to repeat to me:

“In loneliness,
you are never truly alone.”

And while I reflected on those words…

I heard deep within my heart
a gentle voice.

A voice filled with peace.

“I am here.”

Only three words.

But those three words
touched something inside me
that had been closed for a very long time.

And for the first time…

I understood what my mother
had been trying to teach me
all those years.

That even when I cannot feel Him…

God is there.

That His presence does not depend
on what I feel or see.

And that day…

I cried differently.

Not only because of pain.

But because in the middle of my tears…

something inside me
was finally beginning to heal.

A year later,
the Lord allowed us
to finally organize
an official funeral for my mother.

Because of the lockdown,
it had not been possible sooner.

I returned there
for several days.

And honestly…

even today,
I still do not know
how we managed to organize everything.

The Lord opened doors for us
in incredible ways.

The resources.
The organization.
The paperwork.

He provided for everything.

And while I was there,
I was running everywhere.

I wanted everything to be perfect
to honor my mother
one last time.

But despite all the chaos…

God continued His work inside me.

Gently.

Silently.

And during that season…

I managed to write a message
for my mother.

One final tribute.

A few lines
that came from the deepest part of my heart.

“Dear Mom,

I always believed
you left far too soon.

But with time,
I came to understand
that our perception of time is so limited.

There is no measure capable
of truly grasping its value.

All we can do
is live the life the Lord has given us
in a way that pleases Him,
and find favor in His eyes.

And I am convinced, my precious mother,
that YOU found favor
in our Lord Jesus Christ’s eyes.

And for that reason,
He called you back to Him
so that you would remain with Him forever.

We miss you deeply, Mom.

But as Saint Augustine once said so beautifully:

“You are not far away…
just on the other side of the road.”

Your loving daughter,
Danielle.”

But after the funeral…

something collapsed inside me again.

All that time,
I had been busy.

Organizing.
Managing.
Serving others.

I had never truly taken the time
to feel.

And when everything stopped…

the pain came rushing back all at once.

Like a wave impossible to hold back.

I cried every day.

Sometimes for hours.

A deep pain.

Burning.

As if I had only just learned
that my mother was gone.

And despite all the comfort
God had already begun pouring into me…

a part of me
was still fighting.

I remembered everything He had shown me.

His goodness.
His love.
His presence.

But sometimes…

nothing seemed able to calm the pain.

And one morning, during prayer…

God brought back a memory.

With overwhelming clarity.

As though I were reliving the entire scene.

I was about fourteen or fifteen years old.

We were all gathered in the living room
when my father told us
that my mother needed to be hospitalized.

He tried to reassure us.

He said it was only for tests.

But something inside me
was already afraid.

The next day,
I went to the clinic.

And the farther I walked through the hallways…

the more a strange fear
rose inside me.

Then I saw my family.

My aunts.
My grandmothers.

And I understood
that something was wrong.

I started running
toward my mother’s room.

The door was slightly open.

And there…

I saw my father crying.

Before that day,
I had almost never seen him cry.

And in that instant…

something inside me completely collapsed.

Because his tears
could only mean one thing:

I was losing my mother.

When I entered the room…

she was lying there,
connected to several machines.

So pale.

I took her hand.

It was ice cold.

I wanted to believe
everything would still be okay.

Then suddenly…

the machines began to sound alarms.

The doctors rushed in.

And we were forced out of the room.

That night…

I cried out to God.

I begged Him to save my mother.

To heal her.

I prayed with everything I had inside me.

And a few hours later…

a friend of my mother came to get me.

She brought me back to see her.

And this time…

my mother was doing better.

She looked at me.

She squeezed my hand.

And she simply said:

“It’s going to be okay.”

Those words calmed me.

And through all those years…

I had never fully realized
what had truly happened that night.

Then one day in prayer…

while I was telling the Lord
how much I missed her…

that gentle voice returned.

And He said to me:

“I know.
I gave you twenty years.”

When I heard those words…

something inside me stopped.

All those years,
I had only looked
at what I had lost.

But God…

showed me everything
He had given me.

He could have called her home
twenty years earlier.

But in answer to the prayer
of a teenage girl…

He had given me
twenty more years with my mother.

And suddenly…

my tears changed.

They were still there.

The pain too.

The absence too.

But in the middle of that pain…

a deep gratitude
began to grow inside me.

I was no longer looking only
at her departure.

I was finally looking
at everything God had allowed me
to live with her.

Every laugh.
Every conversation.
Every piece of advice.
Every simple moment of everyday life.

All of it…

was grace.

And little by little…

God changed the way I saw everything.

Even today,
I still miss my mother.

Some days are harder than others.

Moments when I still wish
I could call her.
Talk to her.
Share something with her.

And sometimes…

the ache still hurts deeply.

But now…

I no longer walk through this pain alone.

Because in the middle of this valley…

God revealed Himself to me
in a way I never would have known otherwise.

He taught me
that He is close
to the brokenhearted.

And even today…

in moments of loneliness…

I still softly hear these words:

“In loneliness,
you are never truly alone.”

“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart;
and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.“
— Psalm 34:18 (KJV)

✦ Danielle | Germany ✦