Holding hands

with my mother

fading embers in my father’s eyes

become a flicker once more.

 

Few words spoken

they would be superfluous.

 

Wordless dialogue

but heartfelt exchange

echoes through this chamber

at the threshold

of his exit door.

 

Fifty-four years traversing,

journeying together,

spawning

profound understandings

of complex and deep

simplicity.

 

This is life

this is death

this is love

forever.

 

 

Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2003

All rights reserved.

 

Author notes

During one of my father’s final days we watched as the nurses lifted him from his bed to a chair. While this was happening my father, unable to speak took a pen from the nurse’s pocket and motioned for a piece of paper. I gave him my journal. With a weathered and shaking hand he scrawled across the page “I love you”, and then pointed at my mother. A heart searing moment that precipitated these words.

 

Written June 22nd, 2003 Edmonton, Canada