57 - The Bond Persisting

The Bond Persisting
By Alice Carver Cramer

… the passing moment is cherished forevermore by One who knows how to do justice to all its beauty and value …
-Charles Hartshorne

My father dying
spoke no word for many days.
Sons were with him, but not his wife
nor the daughter long dead
nor the other daughter on the other side of the world-
Chance thus led me once to his bed
where bending I laid my cheek against his forehead
touched his face gently with my hand
and heard myself murmuring such heart's nothings
as we use to a small child
or to a lover.
So quiet so quiet he lay:
It is I thought myself answering
and that is enough.

I went back to my chair at the foot of his bed
to keep my watch.

In an hour he stirred.
I went again to his side
O helpless!
and softly asking if he wanted some water
awaited his slight delayed gesture of response.
But this time he spoke.
With exquisite care and grave effort
he whispered … slow … tremulous …
but perfectly clear or I couldn't have heard
so faint his voice:
"No … darling . . ."

This was the last time that I heard him speak.