By Dennis R. Edwards

Columnist

At times I’d nuzzle my way into it. But I never lingered very long. On rainy days in particular, whenever she sat just off center on our long green living room sofa, I sensed Lorraine was leaving a place open next to her.

Later I came to realize the space was for someone who couldn’t be there anymore.

Distance mixed with love and longing were woven into expressions on her face. Her hand cupped her chin as though she were touching someone else. Her eyes draped down, and sorrow blanketed that area reserved for two.

Music from our old stereo filled a hesitant breeze, with Roy Hamilton singing words like “If I should go first, I’ll tell the angels that just a touch of your hand makes me feel closer to heaven, and I know they’ll understand. I’m so glad, so glad, so glad your mine. Darling stay with me, abide with me, my love.”

Other times the voice of Pat Boone broke through with Red West’s lyric: “Though my heart is heavily burdened/and my eyes can’t hold back the tears/I know that in time I will have peace of mind/But it may take a thousand years.”

Whenever Lorraine sat with that look on her face, I knew her mind was on my father Leroy, the man who died too young. “Well you walked out and left me this morning. And you didn’t even say goodbye. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my pride, and I broke right down and cried. Yes I broke right down and cried.”

When I lingered for a while, her arms wrapped gently around me. Sometimes she just couldn’t let go, especially when these words invaded the moment: “Well you didn’t even give me a reason. You didn’t say what I’d done wrong. All I know is you’re gone, and now I’m alone. Yes you’re gone and now I’m alone”.

In moments like that, I came to realize she was somewhere in the not-so-distant past looking for the love of her life.

Only a few people shared the place on mama’s sofa. Sometimes I’d instinctively slip away. The love there was more than I could stand. It was as though we weren’t alone. The place on my mother’s sofa had an occupant I couldn’t see.

When the rendezvous was over — when she returned to our moment — I languished in the afterglow of love unaltered by the gulf between life and death. I got to see why death can’t change love’s phenomenal power.

Next year brings my fathers 100th birthday. So what do I do with memories like these? Where do they fit now?

I think we’re wise to hold onto our parent’s stories, to realize we aren’t the first and won’t be the last to live through heartache and the agony of dreams deferred or destroyed. How it takes more courage to live than to die. How love in and of itself is high motivation for living fully through life’s ups and downs.

When mama died, the last verse of Boone’s song came back to me.

“Well, they say that time heals all heartaches/So I guess I have nothing to fear/’Cause I know that in time I will find peace of mind/But it may take a thousand years.”

My guess is Lorraine didn’t have to wait that long. I’ve all ways believed Dad was right there reaching for her hand when she crossed over.

Dennis Edwards is an Emmy Award-winning television news reporter and anchor, He is a 1974 graduate of Suffolk High School. Email him at dennisredwards@verizon.net.