She looked at me as though she still needed to confirm that I had truly come all that way.
Then she gave me the same small smile she had offered when I first entered the room.
I bent over our joined hands and pressed my forehead against them because I could not bear the weight of what she was giving me.
“So did I.”
She died that afternoon while I held her hand.
Ellen stood on one side of the bed.
I stood on the other.
Together, we felt the enormous silence of a life closing.
Afterward, I sat alone in the hospital chapel for nearly an hour because I could not yet enter a world where Margaret had become past tense again.
I stayed for everything.
I helped Ellen choose the flowers.
We selected simple white peonies and pale blue delphinium because Margaret had loved growing them in her garden.
Ellen said the colors reminded her of her mother’s best Sunday dress.
At the burial, Ellen slipped her arm through mine as naturally as though it had always belonged there.
That nearly broke me as completely as the grave.
After the funeral, I returned home.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.I was too old to pretend grief could be escaped by changing geography.
The world remained untouched by the fact that mine had split apart and reformed around a different shape.
But Ellen called two days later.
Then again on Sunday to check on me.
And after that, somehow, we continued.
I still longed for Margaret.
For weeks, I reached toward the telephone at dusk before remembering there would be no evening call.
