Light streamed through the window as we crowded into the little room. The figure in the hospital bed lay contorted from a body ravaged by sickness. His head fell to one side, chin pressed to his shoulder, his mouth opened and twisted. With eyes immovable, his stare was fixed on the foot of his bed. His bride of untold years sat by his side.
As voices were raised in song of declaration of God’s grace, the woman lovingly took his hand. She gently stroked it as tears streamed down her face. Her voice could be heard mingling with the others. It was strong and confident. She knew his remaining time was short. She anticipated his last breath at any time.
As I watched her, I wondered what she saw. Did she see a twisted man with life fading away? Did she see a strong handsome young man from days long gone? Did she relive the moment she met him? Did she remember that moment when her heart flipped, and she thought she would love him forever? Did she envision their wedding day or his face when he held their child for the first time? It’s almost as if she was trying to gather time in her arms and hold it tight so it could not escape, daring the memories to fade.
Her tears fell unashamedly as she lifted his hand slightly, lowering her head to give it a tender kiss. I thought my heart might stop as I witnessed the scene. The twisted man I saw was the object of a woman’s love and devotion. Somehow, the room appeared even brighter. As we prepared to leave, we all held hands. I stepped forward and took the hand she had kissed through her tears. I was surprised that he gripped my hand while he slowly moved his other hand toward hers. No other visible emotion or movement escaped him. His hand was soft and warm. Life could still be felt pulsing through his veins. As I closed my eyes, the smell of disinfectant and distinct odors that had followed us into the room were snuffed out. I noticed a sweet fragrance. I knew it must be the perfume of the lady who sat within my reach, but maybe it was the fragrance of her love mingled with the sweet aroma from the prayers that were being lifted to the heavens. Time is indeed short. We cannot hold it tight for it will slip right through our fingers like sand in an hourglass.