My Prayer

She walks through the house looking for a glimpse of what was. But he isn’t there, not at his desk, not in the kitchen and not in the bedroom that they shared for near seventy years. She wants to hold on to something that reminds her of him, to have him close to her, but she can’t find the right thing. There is nothing physical there that she can hold, that isn’t already in her heart and soul. She mourns her loss and loneliness with tears but only for a second as she rejoices knowing that in heaven she will see him one day. I tell her,” Mom we will plant his flowers in my yard for you to tend on earth while he tends to yours in heaven.” She smiles the smile that only she can smile and says, “I would like that”. “You know we have two precious flowers in heaven that he is holding right now! If we try and live right I know that we will go there one day and be with them.” I hug her now small frail frame and wipe her tears as she did for me more than forty years ago-but now seems like only yesterday. She looks the same only with the snowy white hair, the same as her mother. I can only imagine at the loss she feels as I have known love that is deep and true, but only for one third of the years. My children I know are comforting to me as I know that hers are to her, but it still does not fill the void that laid by her side all the cold nights when she would warm her feet on his or awake in the middle of the night and say, “honey, are you awake?” and here the familiar voice say “yes” even if she woke him up. My prayer is for you to find peace in your heart and soul because I know that is what he would want. He tried to protect you as your memory failed. When you would forget and leave the water running or when you would turn the stove on high and I would get the all familiar call, “Trish, what do I do, Mom has the stove on high again”? I miss those phone calls as sometimes it was the only way that I could help, as he always had things under control. As he knew he was becoming sicker in body and spirit, he wouldn’t ask me to do his bills or check the checkbook. He would say, “Sis, will you get my bank book that I keep my statements in” knowing he would have to tell me where it was so that when the time came, I would know. Mom would be taken care of even in his death. Yes, she will miss him, like a hurt that she thinks will never heal. But thanks to God in Heaven, it will…

Trish
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