It has made me realize that you can’t survive love emotionally without first becoming spiritually connected. What good prospers out of ten to fifteen years of loneliness and being tortured with mindful moments of regrets and haunting memories of mistakes, as oppose to one to three hours a week of marriage counseling or therapy or attending church together?
Or perhaps even a little time away from one another, maybe to help gain a valuable perspective on the benefits of what you have. Instead of fighting against one another, they learned to fight together against all of life circumstances that once drove them apart.
And though there were times when rising misunderstandings gave way to long conversations resulting in the rebuilding of their trust, just the openness of communicating alone served an invaluable purpose.
Their love had grown into what couples only imagine having in their lifetime. For me just being in their presence at that point in their marriage, it has left such a profound effect on my life. There were many late nights I sat with the two of them in that room and felt his silent prayers as he communicated to God within his thoughts.
Drifting in and out of questionable stages of doubt, on several occasions I walked out of the room bearing my anger unto Him. But then again I also knew it was only His mercy that kept them together and my mother alive.
From a profession standpoint I knew they were up against an insurmountable task. But they also had faith. For all the circumstances that prevailed as a test or some form of burden lending itself to their anxiety, hope weighed in, crushing the resulting perils of what seemed of imminent fate. I felt what I sensed was the purest form of dignity allowed by love. With humility I watched as their hearts wrestled with the unyielding finality of death.
After sitting and experiencing a piercing heartache un-parallel to any other pain I’ve ever felt in my life. With every ounce of dwindling strength I had left in me, I struggle to my feet as I made my way out of the room.’”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry…” consoled Verona, as she wiped her tears from her eyes.
“Wow…” whispered Dominic, as his eyes slowing descended upon the table.
“My dear child. That is one of the most sad, and yet romantic things I’ve ever heard,” added Tom, as he thumbed a fading tear from his eye.
“Hey. If you don’t mind,” cautioned Dominic. “What happened next?”
“Its okay. Its fine.” I answered as I glanced around the table.
“Go ahead, we’re listening,” insisted Tom, as he looked on, compassionately.
“Two hours must have gone by as I sat in my car listening to an extended segment of a Christian radio talk show. When I first got in I ran through the stations in hope of finding something to help bring me back to myself. As I surfed I kept coming across this station where I found myself being drawn in by the topic of discussion. The host was explaining God’s intended purposes for our lives. After listening for the duration of the show, I finally got myself together and headed back upstairs to the room.
When I stepped off that elevator into the corridor leading to her room, my life was suddenly transformed forever. I thought I was strong and could handle anything that came my way. But what I experienced next is something I believe no one is ever completely prepared to encounter. A floor attendant stopped me as I made my way toward the door leading into her room.
‘Oh Ms…Ms!’ she cried out as she rushed over toward me.
‘Yes, what is it?’ I asked, in a frantic tone. Sensing something was wrong.
‘Its…’ she paused, before quickly adding. ‘I’m sorry. Its your father.’
