Browjan's Blog: The Long Good-Bye

Eternal Love

Throughout their lives, my parents were inseparable. They did everything together and wouldn’t even consider taking trips apart. From morning coffee on the porch to their dedicated work in the church office, their synchronized steps through life’s dance (the only type of dancing Dad allowed!) showcased their unity. My parents, Pastor George and Evie, were not just partners in marriage but in every conceivable aspect of life. 

Mama even expressed that she hoped they would die together. She couldn’t bear the thought of an existence apart. This inseparable bond was symbolized by Dad’s hat, a constant in their daily ritual. 

Dad always wore this hat. He loved the ministry it represented, and every evening he would take it off and place it on “his side” in the same spot on the dresser. Every morning he would lift it from its spot and with hands trembling from Parkinson’s set it firmly in place on his head. The morning after he died, the hat remained on the dresser, a silent symbol of his passing. 

My mama, who no longer spoke due to advanced dementia, pointed to his hat sitting in its normal resting place. “You want Dad’s hat?” I asked. She nodded. 

As I handed her the hat, her fingers trembled, not just from age, but from the profound weight of memories it carried. As she placed it on her head, it was as if she was trying to keep a piece of him close, a silent plea to time to not separate them. Though she was unable to express it verbally, the gesture spoke of her deep grief and desire to always be near her beloved George. They were married just 2 weeks shy of 66 years. 

Four days later, she sat stoic and silent with my brothers who had come to comfort her. In the quiet of the room, where time seemed to pause, Mama, who had been silent for so long, suddenly looked upwards with a clarity that hadn’t touched her eyes in years. “What are you doing up there, George?!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and longing. “I don’t know if I can come up there… Sigh. Okay. I will try!” she promised. Those were her last spoken words. 

The next day, she began to struggle with breathing, the same hospice for dad was called in. Two days later, as she breathed her last, warm against my lips, it was as if her spirit passed through me. In that final kiss, she fulfilled her promise to join him in eternity.

The rain on the day of their burial was fitting, as if the heavens themselves wept for a love so complete, now reunited in eternity. The hat, their silent guardian, was laid with them, a symbol of their undying bond.