A Smile Engraved
“This was the last picture taken of her” – came the first line steadily, gravely. “The day happened to be one of those warm, spring ones she adored so much. She always said that when nature is born anew, it is time to shed the remnants of the decay winter left behind and start to feel alive again. In this picture, she smiles. It is not a particularly happy smile. While her heavy burdens had already carved their way into her once delicate face, she never let them get to her soul. Yet, I can see the sadness in her eyes now, something, I failed to notice before. This was the last picture taken of her, as once she knew about her illness, she refused to be remembered as frail and sick. She adored life”
Here came a pause as the voice died away. The man, dressed in a black suit and grey coat looked around. He seemed lost somehow, adrift like the drying leaves lazily swaying around him. Seeming nearly surprised about his whereabouts, he blinked for a few times when the soft breeze ruffled the papers he held between white knuckled fists. Finally back in the moment, he started reading again.
“Sarah Marshall was a single child of working-class parents. Her plans for life, while not ambitious per se, were admirable in their simplicity. She wanted to earn enough to manage her needs. She wanted a husband to love and children to care for. She wanted little for herself and rarely asked for anything, yet, she always gave more than she actually had. Money, time, love – she gave those freely without a second thought to herself. Alas, life was not as generous to Sarah Marshall as she was to others. The husband she loved so dearly left her for a fruitless chase for a better life, giving her nothing but a child so much alike him. In his absence, Sarah made sure that their child was brought up with immense love. She adored her son more than life itself.” Here he paused again, just for a moment. Then he went on, just as steadily, just as gravely as he started.
“Sarah Marshall loved her son so much that she let him go - not without reservation or fear, but with hope and trust. She gave him her last few dollars, some made from selling the odd bits of inherited antiques and some from the long-cherished wedding band made of white gold. She never said a word about it, knowing this was the key for the education her son needed. Sarah Marshall lived alone from then on. The close bond she shared with her son remained strong in her heart and she never complained that the replies for her letters and calls grew sparse. She told him that she understood, that she wanted only what was best for him, and that she was very, very proud of what he was becoming. She told him that she was fine, that things hadn’t changed, and that she was always waiting for his visits. She didn’t tell him about the cancer, nor about the fact that she couldn’t pay for the treatment. Instead, she sent him this picture, with a date and a ‘love you’ on its back. She didn’t want to worry him.”
“Sarah Marshall was….” Here, the man stopped as he looked around again. No encouragement, no help was coming; he stood alone. He wanted to go on, to finish his carefully written speech, but his throat closed up and he nearly choked on the next words which read ‘my mother’. He couldn’t say it, knowing if he read the last few sentences, his speech would finally become the obituary it was. He wasn’t aware that tears were now sliding down on his face. He never noticed that his knees, clad in finely tailored trousers, reached the soil in which Sarah Marshall was laid to rest. He didn’t care that the gentle breeze caught the papers from his shaking fingers and carried them away.
“Mom… I’m so-sorry… I’m late….”