I am currently a witness to a love that is deep and true. It is a love that i honor and revere. It is not mine, it is the love between my mother and father. They have been married for 70 years and that love has always been present. But like all things in life, it has changed through the years. My father has always affectionately referred to Mom as “my girlfriend.” As the youngest of their three children, it never stopped being humorous to me, but it gradually became funnier while the years passed and the hair thinned and the walking pace slowed. Now as their life together nears its end, anyone in the room can see and feel the power of their love. It is a look. It must certainly be the same look that brought them together as teenagers in high school. It is that look where two pairs of eyes lock onto each other and within seconds they are lost in one another as the rest of the world fades away. It is the look that made that teenage girl who is my mom, swoon over her young lover. As she looked into his eyes the love she had for him was reflected back to her and she knew that this was the one. This was the love that would carry her through all the hard times that lay ahead. But it would also be the love that stood happily beside her in their travels and adventures together that even they wouldn’t guess could be possible. And it is the look that no matter how many times I witness, I find myself looking away because it can only belong to them. It is private and intimate. And at this age this is what intimacy looks like. It is the shared glances, the holding of hands as the one with a walker passes the one with a cane, and it is the declarative said in unison, “Eat your supper.” Love at this age is the reminder to call the doctor, to take your pills, and to eat. It is the negotiating of who feels up to driving and who will fetch the nightly ice cream treat. Yes, it has a different look to it but it is clear that this is a love that anyone would wish for and die for. This is a love that will last into eternity.
No comments:
Post a Comment