Will I Ever See Her Again?

I have known pain many times in my life! And I have plenty regrets. I normally hope that with the passing of time, my pain will be dulled and I will move on...eventually. To the most part, that has been accurate. But there are happenings that shake your world and it crumbles down; moments in time where the million pieces your life breaks into, take God to salvage.

The first memory of her I can remember is hearing her heartbeat. And the interesting vibrations made by her voice as I lay my head on her chest. It was not the first time I had laid my head on that chest, and it was not the last that I would - that I was sure of! I don't seem to recall who she was talking to. But I was hooked to her love, and that was all that mattered.

I would like to say that our relationship was smooth; and that we were perfect for each other, but that is far from the truth. Our relationship hit the rock one too many times. But we pulled through...ALWAYS. We shared a partnership that most people might not enjoy; a partnership beyond words and deeds. So, as I stand in front of this casket, looking down into her motionless body, I do not know what to do with myself. No tears are forthcoming, because there is nothing here for me. Only death. I feel cheated and robbed. We had such plans for life!

I tried to peer through the glass into the deadness that lay beyond. She was still beautiful, even as she lay there. My hands reach up and touch the casket. I am still blank. A void hangs over my soul. I am beat. As I look around at all the people that are wailing and being held, and the one or two who have passed out, I do not understand. I should be the one afflicted here. I should be the one crying. But that doesn't seem like it's going to happen today. 

I am already creating a human traffic jam behind me. Many more people want to see the deceased - offer their goodbyes. But no one is going to move me. They are looking at me pitifully. They understand. I need some time. I finally muster up the courage to make a step away from the casket. It takes all that I am. Maybe because it is a cold morning, or maybe because walking away carries such finality - a finality that I am unable to come to terms with.

There is a sudden shout behind me. I turn just in time for someone to come crashing into my arms. They let out all their brokenness on me. I stand there like a statue. Holding them. Understanding them. After what seems like eternity, they compose themselves and I let them go. I walk to the car. My thoughts wander. I close my eyes and shut everything out. As I sit here, eyes closed and thinking about everything but my predicament, I am sure some people are confused. But they can let it slide - I am an African man, and our strength is in not shedding a tear (at least that is the fallacy we have been fed as we were being raised up).

I can recall her smile; her laughter. I can still see her sweet look in my mind. Her voice is still fresh in my ears. I can still feel her touch; the gentleness of her fingers running through my hair. I can still smell her perfume; the aroma of her food. My mother! My only one! Now gone! And there I wonder "Will I ever see her again?"