Sunday morning, December 22, 1991 , Ocoee, TN
Eulogy
"'Love isn't love till you give it away' were more than just words to Momma," Leah said, her voice trembling slightly as she held up two gold halves of a heart locket. "They were etched on her heart deeper than the locket in my hand. They were her life, and all of us who knew her felt that love radiating into ours."
Leah paused, taking a deep breath. The sound of the distant river and a gentle breeze seemed to wash over her, offering a moment of solace that gave her strength to continue. She addressed those gathered before her on the small Ocoee Valley hillside, her eyes fixed on the long Georgia pine casket that held her mother.
"Momma, it's days like this I miss you the most. When I was a little girl, I'd tuck my hand into your pocket, hiding behind you. You'd slide your hand over mine, whispering for me to put on my rose-colored glasses and reassuring me that everything would be okay. It still strikes a chord in my spirit remembering the feel of your skin when your hand slid over mine as I helped you wear your half of the locket for the last time. It was my last glimpse of you in this world, and my last act as your daughter. Your final touch to reassure me, even then, that it would be okay. In these moments of uncertainty, I yearn for your presence and that reassurance. When all answers seem lost, I know my thoughts and memories are all I have. I've lost my rose-colored glasses, Momma, and now I see the world as it is – so dark and full of shadows. But you'll never be a shadow in my heart. So, as I stand here today with so many people who loved and were loved by you. I'm not sure what words to say that haven't already been said by other more eloquently. And, as much as anyone here, I remember your dislike for goodbyes. You'd always hold each of us as close as you could within your arms and simply say, 'Till your love holds me again.'"
Tears welled in Leah's eyes, their sting a reflection of the deep ache in her soul. "So Momma, today I stand before you filled with fear, but also with fearless love. I will always love you, until your love holds me again," she whispered, placing a single white rose on the casket as she stepped away from the front of the casket and turned into the embrace her father.
Later That Night
Leah lay on her bed, tracing the patterns on the ceiling with her eyes. The last of the guests had departed, and she knew she should go downstairs to help her father with the mountain of casserole dishes, cards and flower condolences scattered throughout the house. The blur of the past week culminating in the graveside ceremony that very morning.
Her gaze fell upon the intertwined necklaces resting on her chest. Memories of her last day with her mother, their final goodbye on December 15th, flooded back – a bittersweet mix of pain and peace. Five long, grueling years of battling cancer had finally ended.
The following days were a haze of emptiness. For Leah, the wake felt like an eternity. Exhausted, her body ached for a resolution that never came. As people spoke of her mother's love and caring heart, it was a testament to her life, yet it also cast a shadow that seemed to engulf Leah's own existence. It held a gut-wrenching beauty – each story, each smile, each hug a duality of comfort and fresh sting. A wound that scabbed over, only to be ripped open again, denying healing. The stark finality was laid bare with every well-wish and embrace.
"Your mother 'was' beautiful," they'd say. "Your mother 'was' kind. Your mother 'was' brilliant."
"Your mother was..."
Was...
Looking away from the ceiling, Leah pulled herself back to the present and shuffled down the stair. She found her dad staring out the kitchen window, surrounded by enough casserole dishes to last for months. People who had stopped by to offer condolences had also brought food, attempting to fill some of the void, but food couldn't satiate the emptiness in her soul. Hugging her dad as he asked if she wanted anything to eat, they reheated some fried chicken and mac and cheese, eating as they sorted the food into the fridge or garage freezer, trying to find a semblance of normalcy.
As they finished cleaning up, her dad turned to her with a hopeful smile. "Hey, you wanna watch a movie?"
"What movie?" Leah asked.
"A movie about love and marriage," her dad said cheesily exaggerating the vowels, trying to get a smile out of her.
"Is there kissing in it?" Leah asked, playing along.
"Just wait and watch," her dad replied.
And for the first time all day, a laugh escaped Leah's lips. She curled up next to her dad on the couch as he popped "The Princess Bride" into the VCR. They laughed and cried together, finding solace in each other's company as they ended this day and painful chapter of their lives.
---Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy The Book of Leah , Be sure to let me know what your thoughts with a like or a comment below. - Jay