My mother-in-law died, and I was sad. Not only because of the person that I lost in the final breath's of a hospital room, but for the one that wasn't even seen in that room.
She had suffered, so death was necessary. I would miss her precious laugh, her violet eyes, her voracious appetite stuffed inside a pencil-thin frame, and her generosity to a young mother whose apron pocket would always find a $20 or $50 dollar bill from the one who appreciated another cook for family gatherings. I would miss our Ceesette, my husband would miss his mother, and my children would miss their grandmother.
But my sadness wasn't just for the life that was lost, it was for the life of the one who was still in the room; the unseen--my husband.
He was the one who had cleaned his mother's soiled sheets and nightgowns all those months before (never allowing his more than willing wife to handle the task). He was the one who drove through a snow storm to make sure she had power, when everyone else was afraid to put tires to the ice. He was the one who made sure she had money in her bank account to pay the help; the one who trimmed her bushes, mowed her lawn, and took her plates of dinner from the local diner. I think I was the only one who knew that he had been doing all of those things, because he never wanted people to notice the sacrifice (those who serve others well never do).
But I saw him. I saw his humility, and his efforts to be the constant peacemaker when funeral arrangements were being made.
I saw a man who still leaves the largest legacy in any room he enters; a legacy of sincerity, grace, sacrifice, and forgiveness.
He's the one my children will stand over one day as well, and they won't have to search for words from the years gone by. Instead, they will use the words of that very day; words that have never left their mouth when talking about their dad.
Even though no one seemed to see the biggest man in the room that day, I did. I'm married to him, and I love him really big. Not just for what others say about his kindness and amazing listening skills, but for the legacy he continues to leave for my children.
And for the one he leaves for me.
