My mom, Ann Marie, passed a year ago. She had a happy and holy passing. Here's what I learned from walking her home:
1. One of the best-kept “secrets” of the Catholic Church is something that happens during the Last Rites—it’s called the Apostolic Pardon.
The Apostolic Pardon isn’t a separate sacrament, but an extraordinary grace attached to the Last Rites that the priest gives—by the the authority of the Church—to someone who is dying. It’s God’s mercy completing its own work: healing not only the guilt of sin (which is forgiven through the Sacrament of confession) but also remitting any remaining purification (i.e. "temporal punishment") needed before entering Heaven.
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Forgiveness takes away the guilt of sin (reconciled with God).
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Remission takes away the penalty that remains because of that sin.
When we go to confession, our sins are truly forgiven. We’re reconciled to God, and our friendship with Him is restored.
But sin always leaves a mark.
Think of it like this: a little boy hits a baseball through his neighbor’s window. He runs next door, apologizes sincerely, and the neighbor forgives him. Their relationship is restored—that’s confession, where the guilt of sin is erased. But the window is still broken, and someone has to repair it. That broken window represents what the Church calls temporal punishment—the lingering effects caused by sin that still need to be made right.
The Apostolic Pardon is like the neighbor saying, “Don’t worry about the cost—I’ve already taken care of it myself.” It’s mercy completing mercy.
Of course, throughout our lives we can—and should—make reparation for sin through prayer, sacrifice, and acts of love. But when a person receives the Last Rites—including confession, anointing, Holy Communion, and the Apostolic Pardon with faith and repentance—their soul is made ready to meet Jesus face-to-face right away.
My mom was a holy woman who lived so hard and so fully in Christ. But there are good and holy people who are being purified in purgatory right now! The Church even calls them the Holy Souls in Purgatory. But, it’s for this reason—the Apostolic Pardon—that I have every confidence, in what the Church calls the "certainty of hope", that my mom is with the Lord.
Because she received the Apostolic Pardon, in the language of Mother Church, I can say with that certainty of hope that my mom is with the Lord right now! My mom is a saint—not in the official, canonized sense, but in the truest sense of the word: with Jesus in heaven forever.
2. One of the promises of the Sacred Heart of Jesus is that those who honor and trust in His Heart will receive the grace of final repentance—meaning, they will have the opportunity to receive the holy sacraments before death.
If you have a loved one who is sick or dying, don’t wait—call a Catholic priest right now to come and administer the Last Rites. This is one of the greatest acts of love you can do for them, helping to prepare their soul to meet Jesus with peace and grace.
3. Heaven is ATTAINABLE for ORDINARY people just like us! I’ve always known this in my head, but sometimes, being a cradle Catholic means you hear these truths so often they feel cliché. The words are familiar, but the weight of them doesn’t hit as hard as it should. And yet, when I pause and really let it sink in, it’s shocking:
Heaven isn’t just for "perfect" people or the extraordinary saints that do big, impressive things.
It's for ordinary sinners—just like me—living ordinary lives, trying day by day to say "Yes, Lord" to the very things God asks of us.
The saints are not only found in convents and cathedrals—the saints are at home, choosing to love even when it’s inconvenient, when it’s annoying, when there’s "not enough time". It's the ordinary present moment where holiness can be thrust upon us if we get our ego out of the way and let God work through us instead.
Holiness looks like doing the dishes. Choosing to tidy the house, to cook the dinner, to look them in the eye, to smile, to listen, especially when a mountain of seemingly "more important” work is piling up.
Love isn’t just about the feelings; although, when God does grant us that palpable grace of feeling His love, it's certainly a welcome gift! A much needed pick-me-up; a consolation in this valley of tears.
More often, love is about willing (i.e. choosing to do) the good of the other. It’s about choosing the good for those right in front of us—often our own family members in the hiddenness of our homes, where daily sacrifices and acts of heroism go unnoticed and un-praised.
But that's the thing. Nothing goes unnoticed for God.
He sees us, and He is proud of us.
We are seen and prayed for by so great a cloud of witnesses.
Heaven is so close.
Love looks like taking a deep breath, growing quieter instead of louder, when anger rises.
It's choosing to exercise the muscles of our will to do what's right, not what's easy. It's loving God by doing the kind and loving thing for the person beside us, even when we're suffering.
Mother Teresa said it best: "I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
I can't say I'm very good at this.
(Thanks be to God for the Sacrament of Confession!)
But I can say that I’ve discovered the Way, the Truth, and the Life, that I'm trying, and that I'm more motivated than ever to live a life worthy of heaven.
4. When one passes from this life to the next, it's a journey in which they begin to spend more time there in heaven than here on earth.
In her final days, my mom spoke with such confidence about her guardian angel, as if she had met them. She told us that she had the best one and that they protected her every single day of her life.
5. It's so important to pray for those who have passed. Even with such confidence that my mom is in heaven with Jesus (and my sweet baby girl, Esmée), I and the priests—who walked with me during that sacred time who also believe with great confidence that my mom is with the Lord—are not God, and we can’t officially canonize her. Only God and Mother Church can do that.
So, with that in mind: it’s so important to pray for the repose of her soul!
Purgatory isn’t a place of punishment or physical fire—it’s a state of spiritual purification, a fire of God’s love that burns away every last attachment to sin. The souls there are already His; they are holy, beloved, and assured of heaven. That’s why we lovingly call them the Holy Souls in Purgatory.
But even so, it is still a kind of pain—not a torment, but the ache of love. Their suffering comes from longing for the One they already know they are destined to see. They are not yet in the Beatific Vision, the full presence of God, and that longing itself is their purifying fire.
It would be a tragedy if no one prayed for them simply because we assumed they were already in heaven. Our prayers, sacrifices, and the Masses we offer for them are spiritual acts of mercy speeding up their purification process so they can enter heaven faster. Please join me in praying for the repose of my mom, Ann Marie’s soul. 💕
6. When a person is near death, they literally need to “let go.” I always heard this, and I did experience this with my grandmother Genevieve, who actually passed away while I was holding her hand. We had to gently tell her that we were going to be okay—that she didn’t need to keep holding on for our sake—so she could peacefully let go.
But it struck me even more deeply this time with my mom.
I had the gift of being able to tell her everything on my heart: how grateful I am for my baptism, and for my Catholic faith—the very faith she so instilled in me.
I remember whispering in her ear:
"You did it, mom! I'm so proud of you!!! You ran the race, you fought the good fight, you kept the faith. You succeeded. You set us all up for success, and we're all going to be okay.”
Side note: If you have had a loved one pass away where things were left unspoken, it's never too late to tell them. Tell them now. They can still hear you. They are with you in a more powerful way than ever before.
The pastor at my mom's church, who administered the Last Rites to her, explained to us that when one dies, the Lord comes as the Good Shepherd and calls them by name in a way they've never ever heard before. He calls them in the most beautiful way. It's the most beautiful thing, and they have to make the active choice to come.
After everyone retired for the night, my mom just "let go" and went home to Jesus.
7. The Divine Mercy Chaplet is so powerful. I'm a very visual person as you know, and it came to me that the patronus charm in Harry Potter when the dementors are coming at him trying to suck Harry's soul, the patronus is analogous to the Divine Mercy Chaplet.
When we pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet, it is so powerful that it keeps the demons at bay. I now like to imagine that when I'm praying, it's like all the power and all the light pouring out of Harry's wand keeping evil at bay. Except, it's the real power—the resurrection power of Jesus Christ.
I shared this with my brother, who is also a very visual, creative, imaginative person, and it really resonated with him too, so hopefully it's a helpful mental picture of the power of prayer for you as well!
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My mom had 4 priests visit her within a span of 48 hours when she moved from the hospital to being on hospice at home. Priest friends are some of the best friends. We love our priests!
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My mom had the grace of a "runway" toward heaven. While cancer is such a suffering in so many ways, she had the gift of planning ahead and deciding how she wanted to use the time she had left. She lived every second of her life to the fullest. She used every ounce of love she had. She truly planned ahead. She thought of everything.
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We planned her funeral together like we were planning a wedding, and in the end, that's exactly what it was—preparing for the wedding feast of the Lamb. She picked out her own flowers. They were glorious. The dress she chose to wear perfectly complemented the color palette of the flowers that adorned her casket. She even picked out her own casket!
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We evangelized and catechized through her funeral by coordinating with a priest friend of ours to hear confessions during the second viewing, which was on the morning of the funeral, beautiful prayer cards, and Requiem Mass Programs as well that catechized by explaining each part of the Mass and aiding those in attendance who may be far from the church and not been to Mass in awhile.
8. When one is dying, it's the devil's last attempt to take them away from God forever. People often have hallucinations at the end of their life. These can be medicine-induced, spiritual experiences, or both. They can be very scary. People really suffer at the end, not just physically but mentally too. That's why it's very important to pray for them and why the Divine Mercy Chaplet is one of the best ways to pray for those who are dying.
9. Gregorian chant keeps demons away. They do not like it at all.
10. The spiritual battle is realer than real. We knew it was real, but after this entire experience, it feels even REALER than real.
11. I learned how to share with little ones about death and dying. My 2 year old and 2 month old came with us to the viewing and funeral. My 2 year old knows the Lord and loves Mama Mary so much. She has this book called Our Lady's Wardrobe by Anthony Destefano. And in it, it says that Mama Mary has a castle by the sea. We simply explained to her exactly what happened, that Grandmarie is now in heaven at Jesus and Mama Mary's castle.
The Kingdom is real. There is a Kingdom, and so I think it's fair to imagine that there's a castle. Our Lord says he has already prepared a place for us and that in our Father's house there are many rooms! This information sufficed for her, and we now ask Grandmarie for prayers all the time. My two year old also loves the Princesses of Heaven book by Word on Fire, and Born to Be a Saint by Studio Senn, all of which (unbeknownst to me at the time that we got these books) helped to lay the foundation for this conversation.
12. We have one precious life.
13. Life is shorter than we think.
14. The Lord makes all things new. He can even turn your last week on earth into something so beautiful.
The Story of My Mom's Last Week on Earth.
The last week of my mom's life was so holy, so happy, and so sacred. It was truly a HOLY WEEK. My mom, Ann Marie, experienced a true passion, but let me tell you, in ways beyond my own understanding it was truly the most beautiful week.
Ann Marie was on hospice for one week, and we had family, neighbors, and friends pouring in and out of the house like a revolving door coming to see her and spend time with her in her final moments. It was amazing. The grace was palpable. We were high on the Holy Spirit.
My mom wanted to be on hospice in her living room. There's something so special about that to me. She chose to die in her living room, a room for LIVING. Amazing. God is in the details. My mom's not dead, she is alive in Christ.
My mom was a homemaker until the very end of her time on earth. When she arrived home for hospice, she was directing me to put all of her sacred images and statues of Mama Mary and Jesus around the room, battery powered candles for ambiance, and a nail in the wall right by the entryway to hold all of her rosaries so people could each take one to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet with her when they arrived. We prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet each night as a family.
Ann Marie suffered for a LONG time, since Valentine's Day of 2019 when she was first diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.
The night Ann Marie went to her true home, she could barely speak. She couldn't eat solids, she could only have liquids, but she received the teeniest tiniest speck of the Jesus in the Eucharist that a dear family friend of ours put in the side of her cheek.
I remember getting the phone call from my dad around 11:30ish. I had just arrived home. I was catching up on a few tasks to catch up on a few of our clients' Catholic wedding invitation suite proofs.
Just as I closed my laptop, the phone rang.
It was my dad.
I picked up the phone, and he said:
"She's gone."
"No." I responded. It completely took my breath away. I was speechless.
I heard the nurses say that she was still getting oxygen, so technically she might've still been there.
"I'll be right there. I'll be there before she dies." I said.
My dad told me not to come and to stay home to be safe and off the road, but I had to be with my mom, even if she had already left this earth, I had to be with her. With my 2-month-old baby still asleep in her car seat from our drive home that night, we got right back in the car and drove to my mom's to be with her and my family. I couldn't not be there with them.
The whole car ride, I prayed and praised the Lord, and I talked to my mom just in case she had already passed while I was on the road. I had a feeling that yes she had and that she could already hear me speaking to her through prayer. It was beautiful.
As soon as I got there, I saw that her color had changed.
My brothers and dad were crying.
I hugged my dad. I hugged my brothers.
And then, inspired by biblical figures and saints who praised the Lord in good times and in bad, I immediately felt the call to praise the Lord. I was so certain that Jesus, the Good Shepherd had called her and that once again, she said: Yes, Lord.
I turned on praise and worship music—"Here as in Heaven" by Elevation Worship was the first song that came to mind—and sang and worshipped the Lord with hands outstretched. The next few songs were Oceans and Reckless Love by Cory Asbury. It was just what we needed to facilitate how we were feeling. It gave us the words for prayer.
We cried, we hugged, and we praised the Lord, and we exclaimed to one another:
"She did it!!!"
She lived a faith-filled life to the very end.
We exclaimed to my dad:
"You did it!!! You were faithful to her!!! You helped her to heaven!!!"
It was truly a "mission accomplished" sort of feeling, a sense of completion. It was a celebration of her life and how she lived for Christ, and a celebration of how good our God is and how he is the BEST Father.
We were filled with the sadness of missing her, but it did not overcome us. It was mysterious. We were filled with an unexplainable joy for her being with our Lord all at the same time. We felt as though, and spoke it aloud: "One now in heaven, and 4 more to go!!" (I.e. Me, my dad, and my two brothers—my immediate birth family).
I am the last adult woman in my immediate family.
I don't have any sisters. My mom was my sister and my best friend. Women have a special call to be women. We think, feel, and do things that sometimes the men can't or don't do as naturally as women are wired to do. I distinctly remember her telling me, and I quote:
"You are the woman of the house now."
What a gift. What an honor. What beautiful shoes to fill!
Ann Marie, pray for us!!!
Parting Words
All that to say, this year was like no other.
I'm still grieving.
I still have a lot to unpack here, and I still have a lot to learn.
If you made it to the end of this blog post, I'd LOVE to hear from you! Are you grieving the passing of a loved one too? Where are you on the journey? What did you learn? Please comment below!
Let's live for heaven!
With you in the small + sacred things,
Angela