Their night

Growing up, my parents weren't the most touchy, feely sort of couple.  I don't mean that they were cold towards each other, by any means.  They just did not express themselves physically very often in front of us. Or at least in front of me.  They were tender when it counted and when it was needed.  I remember being five or six and going to the funeral of my cousin Margaret.  She and my mom were very close and mom took her death very hard.  As she stood  at the grave after the service, my dad held her close as she cried.  Someone took a photograph of that moment, from behind them.  Now that picture is imprinted on my mind and it's one of the first images I see whenever I think about my parents together.  Their intimate moments like that bound them together and, in a sense, bound us all together.

As Mom's illness progressed rapidly towards the end of her life, their physical interactions became more frequent.  Not necessarily in a romantic way, but much more powerfully.  It was in a way that came straight from their hearts and their devotion to each other.  Dad would have to help Mom in getting dressed and undressed.   Especially with her shoes as she could no longer comfortably bend down to get them on.  I don't think Mom would've let just anyone do that for her, but this was her soul mate.

Dad even had to help bathe Mom from time to time as sometimes it was too difficult for her to do alone.  I remember that one time Dad told me that he joked with Mom, telling her that he'd wanted to help bathe her when they first got married, but she wouldn't let him.  That always makes me smile.

That night, they sat in the den watching the video of Bill and Heidi's wedding.  This was something that they had done almost every night since they'd received the video.  Mom was very proud of that wedding.  One, it was a beautiful wedding.  And two, she was determined to be there and to be an active part in it, which she was.  That wedding, honestly, I believe prolonged her life.  After the video was over, she told Dad that she needed to use the bathroom.  He lifted her up and helped her onto the toilet.  She sat there for a long time, he told me.  Once she let him know that she was finished, he cleaned her up, got her dressed again and set her back down in her recliner.  If nothing else, that right there is what true love between two people is.  Mom  expressed her relief and told Dad that she really must have had to use the bathroom badly.  Upon returning to flush and clean the toilet, he realized that Mom had not actually done anything, she'd only thought she had.
Coming back to her, Mom asked Dad if he would scratch her back.  He leaned her forward a little in her recliner and scratched her back, which she always loved.  I don't know how long he did this, but I imagine it made both of them happy to be touching and connecting in some way.  When he was done, she sat back in the chair and thanked him.  And by the time it took Dad to walk only a few feet to his own recliner, not even 30 seconds, that was it.  She was gone.

She was ready to go.  And my Dad's love for her never wavered.  He made have had to let her go physically, but not from his soul.

The depth of my parents love for each other has always amazed me and set an extraordinary example for me.  It is one of those things that I didn't realize how strong it was at the time, but looking back on it I see it in so many memories.