Gaps In Her Smile

Dear Pauline,

I haven't known you for all that long. In fact, I've seen you only a handful of times. But it feels like you've been in my life forever.

The first time I met you, I noticed the two long white hairs poking out of your chin, the glasses that were too big for your face, the hat that didn't quite match your jacket, and your missing teeth. I didn't want you to touch me. I'm sorry for all that now.

I'm sad that I never knew you before your mind started to fade. They say you were beautiful. You are beautiful. You have thought I was many things. You thought I was Lizzy. You thought I was a mother. You thought I was a visitor. But then, near the end, something clicked in your head. You remembered me.

Maybe it was because you see my picture on your refrigerator every day. And Richard says, "That's Kathy. She's going to Africa, so we need to keep her in our prayers."

You asked me questions. Thoughtful questions referencing previous conversations. No one else noticed this improvement. I did.

Pauline, forty-nine years ago today you married Richard. He's still as much in love with you today as he was that day. I can see it in his eyes. You bore his children. You took care of him. Now he's returning the favor. He wipes the spittle from your lips. He fed you applesauce even though you wouldn't take it. He put pictures up around you in case you woke up.

You didn't wake up. You won't wake up until you're in the arms of Jesus. You're already halfway there. Your soul is leaving its shell and rising to union with your Savior! How exciting that must be!

I sang you a song today. You didn't hear it. But it was for you. Carolyn says you love music. She says you used to dance like an angel. Soon you'll dance with the angels.

I'm going to miss you, Pauline. You were a puzzle piece in my life that makes it that much more interesting. You're a beautiful example of redemption and grace.

With deepest love,
Kathy.