The last Link
by
Steven Hunley
A friend I haven’t seen since high school has recently experienced the passing of her mother. I often think about her and the state she must be in. We’re getting to that age where many of our parents are passing the border of the living to finer places and taking on celestial identities. We here on earth can only speculate upon these matters, and lacking imagination or faith, often grow disconsolate or depressed.
We should be.
It’s isn’t the passing of an acquaintance, or even a loved-one. Since it’s a blood-relative, it’s a large piece of our history and of us. With my father, it was just a story. With my mother I saw it first hand, as hard as that was, it gave me closure. Since my father passed first, my mother, who I’d been closer to due to my father’s reticence and lack of demonstrable affection, seemed to me to be my last link to unconditional love.
When losing a loved-one you need closure. It may be a close relative dying, or a love-affair that’s ended. Both require emotional investments that run deep. A phone call won’t do it. My Mom, opening the door for me one morning as I was returning from a night out, that serious look on her face, “Your father is gone,” didn’t do it.
Lovers come and go; their love is conditional. When things don’t go right, they are as free as Bedouins to fold up their tents and disappear into the cold desert night. If you’re lucky they stick with you for the whole safari. Only one thing is for sure. The longer the safari the more closer you need when it’s over.
When you lose that last link to the double-strand necklace of a shared life, it’s one of those precious things that are impossible to replace.
“And then blue turns to grey,
And try as you may,
You just don’t feel good,
And you don’t feel alright…”
©Steven Hunley 2013
http://youtu.be/9kg8YJBbGt0 Blue turns to Grey Rolling Stones
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