Love Always
The fall moon cast its icy light through the window, painting his face in blue hues. He was aware of her presence, but his eyes remained closed as he slipped between wakefulness and a peaceful slumber.
She sat in a cushioned chair beside their bed, watching the cool light play across his face. Some might've warned her that this was a foreboding omen of things to come, but she sat calmly, as she had done for several consecutive nights, knowing this was part of life. To her, the moon's light was the peaceful light of God.
His skin was now old, paper thin, and marked with wrinkles. She smiled, knowing they weren't mere wrinkles, but lines and paths holding stories of a life well lived. Reaching forward, she stroked his hair, now thinning and mostly gray. He'd aged so gracefully, only beginning to show his true age within the last several months. Still, even if he would've aged quickly, she would've found him as handsome as the day they met.
She stroked his hair one last time, lightly caressing his face, and laid her hand on his. He was warm, as warm as the love that still burnt inside each of them. She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed gently. He squeezed back. Closing her eyes, partially so she wouldn't cry and partially to remember, their fingers stayed as tightly woven as their lives had been for the last 72 years.
They were mere children when they met – high school sweethearts – and so young when they married – she a blushing bride of twenty-one while he a strapping young man of twenty-three. They lived and loved and walked in faith. They were blessed with children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Their life together hadn't always been filled with good times, and it certainly wasn't always easy, but it was always filled with love.
Her eyes fluttered open, moist in the corners, to rest upon his face. While lost in memories, attempting to control her own emotions, he had turned his face toward her. His eyes were still closed, but she knew he saw her clearly.
She leaned forwarded and whispered, "It's alright. You can go."
He was living for her, resisting God's outstretched hand. It was something she was sure of, since he already came back once after his breathing stopped. He had turned away from the light of Heaven, toward the sound of her voice, and breath found him again.
As much as she wanted him here with her, she didn't want him suffering any longer.
"Take care of him, oh Lord," she whispered to the moonlight.
"The next time you see the Lord's hand, you take it," she spoke softly into his ear. "It's alright. You can go. I'll be along soon enough."
She felt him lightly squeeze her hand. His steady breathing began to become shallow, but the gently rise and fall of his chest stayed consistent.
"Remember," she said, never letting go of his hand. "I love you, always."