Posted in Stories
It was cold outside, raining and miserable. Boy, I was glad to be inside wrapped up warm besides a glowing fire. I turned to the woodpile to add some more wood, watching the flames grab the wood hungrily until very soon, the fire was roaring again. I pulled my cardigan tighter around me and just stared at the flames. I sighed and turned away and made my way to the kitchen to get a cup of tea.
When I walked in, mum was already there and had the kettle boiling on the aga cooker. She didn’t see me at first as she silently went about adding cups and saucers to the tea tray. Her shoulders hunched and her steps were slow, she looked so pale and drawn and I could tell she was trying so hard not to cry. I walked up to her and gently wiped away a tear with my hand; we just looked at each other for what seemed like several minutes but were in fact only a few seconds.
The pain in her eyes was so raw and my heart went out to her. She shouldn’t have to go through so much agony, not now, not ever. She tried to smile and opened her mouth to speak but a sound like a sob came out instead; she put her hands to her mouth and then the tears started falling. I reached out to her and held her small but tiny frame, stroking her hair and praying as the sobs started to come; it was almost like she had no control over them. I just stood there holding her and I could feel tears pouring down my own cheeks.
The sobbing was a release in my mother that was needed. For three months, she had hardly spoken, hardly cried, and just kept to herself most of the time. Three months of pain and agony that had been building up inside of her. Even after the funeral, she had refused to see anyone, to venture outside the home and wouldn’t even allow the doctor to prescribe her medicine to help numb the pain in her heart.
Holding her now, I was praying that this was the release that was needed that here was at last a breakthrough. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my brother start to venture into the kitchen. He stopped and stared and then made his way over to us and he reached out his hands to both of us and I could hear him offering words of comfort to our mother. He always knew the right words to say, the right thing to do, especially of late and I admired his calm but controlled manner.
This went on for several minutes and I could hear the kettle whistling in the background, but decided the kettle could wait as this was much more important. Soon our mother’s sobs started to subside and gradually ceased altogether. She took hold of our hands and started to pray, something which I hadn’t seen her do in almost three months now. She thanked God for all the precious years she had had with our father, for his commitment to Him, and to us as a family. She thanked Him for his continued love and affection and also that his suffering was now no more, that he was finally at home with our loving Father.
My brother and I were crying as she was praying as this is what we had missed these past several weeks and we felt that this was now a turning point for our mother and for us! Though the pain would be raw for some time to come, it now seemed mother could at last gain some control over her life again. When she stopped praying, she opened her eyes and looked at both of us. She squeezed our hands and gave a tiny smile before turning around to remove the kettle from the fire.
