Love

Friday evening, after finishing my journal entry, I watched the last of the funeral events for President Reagan. Irrespective of one's political views, it was a moving leave-taking. While a resident of the White House, Mrs. Reagan was known for many things, not all flattering. But there can be no denying her great love for her husband.

The final tableau of Nancy surrounded by her children as she weeps at the casket is an image that will always haunt me.

Much later, in that uncertain span between wakefulness and sleep, I thought of the death of my father. And of how my mother loved him. And how she still loves him.

From time to time, she mentions a night when she was overcome by grief and suddenly she felt his presence. As though he were standing by the bed. And he reaches out and takes her hand. She said she knew at that instant that they would always be together.

May all who love be so blessed.

PAX!