That Day, part 2

Orchid

We sat in that room for what seemed like days, however, from start to finish it was only about two hours.  We sat there, taking turns going up to the casket, either by ourselves or with each other.  I watched as my Dad touched her hand and her cheek. I listened as he whispered to her.  How many times, during their fifty-four years of marriage, did my Dad touch my Mother's cheek in an intimate moment, or take her hand to cross the street?  How often during their fifty-four years of marriage did he whisper in her ear?  I watched this unfolding in front of me and, although I would have thought it impossible, my heart hurt even more.

Each time someone went up to be with her, the tears began to flow anew.  It is hard to believe that one person could be loved so greatly.  That her death could be so far reaching.  Yet, each one of us loved her dearly.  She was the wife to one and the mother to four, but she was so much more.  She was a whole person, who started young and grew old.  She had hopes and dreams, some fulfilled and some not.  She laughed and she cried, she had joy and she had pain.  She was there the day I got on the school bus for the first time and she was there the day I graduated college.  And she was there all the days in between. And all the days after. But she isn't here any longer, perhaps this is the hardest pill to swallow.

My last memory of her alive is from October, sitting on the couch next to her, in her embrace.  She was frail but she held me like a mother holds her child, as tightly as she could.  She whispered in my ear, "I love you soooo much."  I think my mother knew, as well as I , that this would be our last embrace.

My mother was an amazing woman, I see that now.  She had unwavering love, but that is, after all, a mother's heart.