Words that stay. That's how a character in a Jim Henson movie described "writing." It is what every writer, every author, wants for their writing - to stay in the minds and hearts of the people their writing touches.
Very few things in this world stay. And even if they might stay, they change. Health, strength, finances, security, that feeling of safety.
On September 6, my wonderful husband could no longer stay in his body, and he had to go. Fortunately I was able to be there along with my daughter, to hold his hands and be able to say goodbye as he drifted off to sleep, never to wake in this world.
But I didn't want to say goodbye. Inside I was screaming, "NOOO! NOOOOOO!" And yet... his body had had enough. The enemy had won the battle for his body, but not for his spirit.
And so, I have been thinking about what he left behind, and what he took with him. I have been remembering how he was looking forward to Heaven - a place he called, "Just the Next Room," where he would be waiting for us to arrive. And this morning, I remembered a scene that he and I used to watch together from the movie, "Ghost" ... starring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and Whoopi Goldberg. Near the end, Molly (Demi's character) can finally hear and see Sam's ghost (Patrick's character). As he gets closer and closer to crossing over to what appears to be a great cloud of individuals waiting for him, he says the one thing he's had trouble saying his whole earthly life - that he loves her, that he's always loved her. Fear has been swallowed up into something much bigger and better.
And then he tries to describe his experience of the place he's going to: "It's amazing, Molly. The love you feel inside? you take it with you." (See https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1232404435042713 )
And you know, over the past 3 weeks, I have felt that love. I have felt held, cherished, cared for, and embraced by that love I know he has for me, even now. Even though his body is gone, his face, his memory is in every square inch of this place we called home for over 37 years. And I can feel him here. And I smile, even though my heart misses seeing him, and aches at not being able to reach out and touch him.
And surrounding and permeating my husband's love, I can also sense the loving arms of God surrounding me, allowing me to rest, to ponder, to cry if I need to. I can't explain it. The closest I can come to it is to say that it's like walking in a quiet mist of pure love.
One other movie that he and I watched together often is the cult classic, The Princess Bride, and the quote that comes to my mind most often is what Westley says to Buttercup when she realizes that he is not dead. "Death cannot stop true love," he says. "All it can do is delay it for a while."
Yes. Yes, that's it. And more. Much more. True love ... lives.
