A wink and smile, a gentle rub of a thumb, a small poke, all these small gestures let her know he’s here. Time has taken his strength, clarity of speech, and mobility; but his heart is strong.
His head is comfortably tucked away into the crook of his arm. He struggles to produce faint whispers that carry almost silent fragmented sounds to her. After seventeen years, she comprehends every slight movement, frequent pause, each uttered syllable. She knows every detail of this great man. In these moments, she understands his intentions and delivery as if she was listening to an eloquent speech.
The ambiance is majestic. Native American flutes play in the background with its rhythmic sounds soothing their souls. She mentions the music as it reminds them of their dreams and travels across country.
He craves the last sights of the clouds, sun, and glimmer of water. His comfort is all we can hope for now.
While waiting for him to cross into Heaven’s gates, he’s warmed by the support given by his wife and others through each difficult moment.
The perfect synchronization of a clock feels like an eternity; knowing that every struggling breath is another precious second gained.
She holds her husband’s hand knowing that he can be taken from her sight, but he can never be taken from her heart. She holds with compassion, strength, and support.
He smiles as her words, “I love you precious,” echo in the small room as he is welcomed by angels.
Precious ~ by Efren BuenRostro Jr.