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November 6, 2001 - The Smell of Her Love
Welcome to 2TheHeart!
"Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean." ~David Searls
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"The Smell of Her Love"
by Susan Spence
I slowly took the key from my pocket and inserted it into the lock.
The door would not open at first, but then I remembered to push
harder and it opened. I was instantly taken back by the familiarity
of the room before me. It looked the same, everything was as she left it. I turned and closed the door and my eyes continued to absorb everything in the room. It was then that I first noticed it...the smell. To a stranger, it would most certainly smell like smoke, but to me it was the smell of my mother. It was the smell of her love.
I turned on the light in the tiny living room and looked at the stack
of mail that I had thrown on the sofa. I saw her slippers and the
crossword books she did at night as she watched television. Her
comforter was folded on the corner and the pillows that held her
beautiful head were strewn just the way I remembered. Mom's plants needed water badly, so I walked to the kitchen to get them a drink. I saw her insulin needles laying there, next to the ceramic frog she kept on the sink, the ugly green one she had for years.
I found a jar and watered her plants and sat down on the kitchen
chair-the same chair I had adopted as my own whenever I would visit. My eyes scanned the table full of papers, magazines and cards. One particular postmark caught my attention. It was from her best friend in Ohio. It was a get well card, she did not know mama was gone. I put it down and walked to the bedroom. I looked at the tiny clothes laid out on the bed and the dogs that occupied her shelves. My fingers wanted to touch everything in the room, but I would not allow that, not now.
I sat down on the corner of the bed and held one of her stuffed
animals and I smelled it again, her love. I put my face on her pillow and breathed in the air that she fought so desperately to breathe
these last few days. With each breath I took, I thought of a kiss, a hug, a laugh and a smile that made her the best friend I ever had. I put one of her sweaters on so that the smell of her would not leave. I felt like an intruder, walking and looking at her things. My hands reached for things familiar, her hairbrush and mirror, and the gifts I made for her as a child that she had hung with pride on her walls.
Just as quickly as the tears came, they left only to be replaced by
anger. I wanted her back and I wanted her back now. I wanted one more day, one more hour or minute. But my heart knew better and I sighed and sat down at the table once more. How could I go through her home and take it all apart? She had worked so hard to make it hers, made it so that when you walked in you saw JoAnn, the woman, the person. How could I even spend one more minute sitting here without her to talk to?
I don't know how long I sat there alone in the silence, but soon I
found myself talking to God. Not asking Him why this happened, but what shall I do now? I prayed and deep inside, I wanted to bargain with Him for just a little more time. I knew if I could be patient for just a while, that still small voice would be there to comfort me. But it was so hard, the waiting. It was then that my eyes spotted the folder she kept all my stories in, the ones that I had written. I opened it and right on top were the stories I wrote for her. Then I saw the newspaper article that had been written about me.
It was then that I heard that still small voice. The title of the
article was "Life's Trials, Sometimes God's Blessings." It was then I
knew that I could do what I had to do to make certain that mama would always be remembered the way she would want. God would give me the strength and courage do this work through all the pain and anguish. He would be there to comfort me and guide me and I knew He would never make me deal with her death alone. He was always there, I just forgot. So as I moved through the days following her death, everywhere I went I smelled her love. I think maybe that was God's comfort, that still small voice...
Susan Spence copyright 2001
arpoet@aol.com
Susan's mother joined the Lord last spring. She was a special lady.
Susan is a wonderful writer and has written "If I Should Ever Lose
You", "Looking for James", "Susie-Q", "How Do I Love Thee", and "A
Secret For Mom".
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The Letter Box:
Dear 2theheart,
I was so moved by Angi Mahnke's story today. Her baby was truly a miracle and God meant for her to come to earth at that time. I
enjoyed seeing the photos of Angi's family and love it when you post the writers pictures!
God bless,
~Pamela
Hello All,
Since 9/11, I have had a hard time reading any mail that wasn't
connected to attack on the USA. Tonight, I took a break and, thank God I did. I found the spirit of love and friendship again in this wonderful room.. thank you Susan for continuing to make a difference one person at a time. You again, offered me the faith and spirit to smile and be honored that I do live, and I am blessed. You have my faithful support and love. Bless all of us.. .
Love;
~Amy
a_e_M_@hotmail.com
Dear 2theheart,
I just found the time to visit your art gallery for Tracks of Alaska.
WOW! It is indeed spectacular and how I envy the beauty that abounds in Alaska. What an awesome thing to add to your web site. I can hardly wait to see what you come up with next!
~Barb R.
Dear 2theheart,
I am leaving this on your Heart Notes page, but I hope you post in in the Letter Box. I just want to tell Angi Mahnke how her story
inspired me. I have had three miscarriages in two years and have lost hope in having a child. I shared your story with my hubby, who cried with me. We thank you for sharing this. It gave us back hope.
Sincerely,
~Michelle & Ryan Craig
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