She loved him.
I know that I am blessed, blessed for many reasons. One of the earliest blessings I came to recognize as such was the amazing bond my parents shared. My mom loved my dad and he loved her. Every moment of my life, I never doubted it. Theirs was a special connection that began before they met, knew each others’ names and before either one even knew the other walked this earth. They finished each others’ sentences and called each other pet names. Every year, there were Christmas presents under the tree addressed to Scarlett and Rhett, Tarzan and Jane. But their love story rivaled any piece of fiction, not only in its complexity and passion but even more so because it was true. True as or truer than any other human experience I’ve been a party to in my life. Simple, pure love that never wavered- not for a moment.
I hadn’t seen my mom’s eyes in days. We were told she might not open them again and I had started to believe it. She was under heavy sedation in the hospital and, though we didn’t know it then, was close to leaving us. I had gone to pick Dad up and bring him home. The second we walked into her room, he took her hand, kissed her and called her his Indian princess, as I’d heard him call her so many times before. In the same instant that he touched her, Mom’s eyes opened and she turned them to look at him. He reassured her, kissed her hands and stroked her hair. He didn’t cry until she closed her eyes again.
This memory is one of my greatest treasures, though it hurts to remember. It reminds me of how very much she loved him and he loved her. And how I will settle for nothing less in my own life.