Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Woman Behind the Stone

The snow, soft and moist like the kind a child would make snowballs with, frames the cold cement. 
We can see it's reflection as we approach. 
Hear the crunch beneath our footsteps.
Feel the sun shining, and the cool breeze lightly kissing the cheeks of the children
who shouldn't have to be here.

Her hands, bigger than they had been last time she approached, yet still so small, clutch the stem of the sign that she would soon push into the earth next to the stone.  The sign, and it's twin...the identical sign that she would bring home with her to keep...represent the things that were most important to each of them.

His hands, the strong hands of a boy who is emerging as a young man now, gently and securely wrapped around a bouquet of for each of them who should not have to come here...that he would soon push into the earth next to the stone.  He remembers more, but speaks less.  Holds on tightly to the flowers, and to her in his heart, pretending to understand. 

I have already been crying for miles.  Anticipating the scene that I am witnessing now.  Thinking of all that the woman behind the stone is missing out on.  A little girl, half of her life has passed since the last time their eyes met, the last time she felt her embrace.  Is mine any comfort?  Some, but not enough to dry the tears that I see streaming down her cheeks now.

A young man, standing here where he shouldn't have to stand, holding back his own tears.  Holding back, yet the look on his face speaks volumes.  It speaks of the yearning, the longing, the acceptance, the determination that she would be proud of. 

Time stands still for a moment.  They feel closer to her, as they run their hands over the roses, the cross, and the words of love engraved in the stone.  Yet strangely it makes the distance seem farther.  The emptiness deeper.  The wound in their souls that hides during the living of life that continues on, comes fresh to the surface now. 

We never met,
the woman behind the stone and I,
yet we are connected.

Through those I stand with now, whose reflections I see
in the stone framed with snow.

Through the love of a mother's heart.

Through the life I see
in their eyes,
and in their laughter
as they share their stories and their memories
of their mother.


  1. Oh my gosh. This is so lovely! I can;t believe your wonderful heart. So beautiful. What beloved kids. I think she chose you for all of this, with Gods ok. Wow. You are one special chick that is all I have to say.

  2. Thank you so much Lisa! Amy would have loved to be your friend and I am sure she is glad you are there for her children. This is such a lovely tribute and I felt as if I was witnessing all of this first hand. You are special and I appreciate all you do for these precious children of Amy. Thank you!

  3. Thank you so much, Barbara! The more I learn about Amy, the more I wish I could have known her. I think we would have been friends, too :)

  4. You are so gifted at capturing a moment and telling a story with your photos, and drawing an amazing picture with your words while allowing the reader to stand with you and share in the emotions of the moment! Thanks for sharing, friend

  5. Debby Penzkover11/14/11, 10:34 PM

    God is so good to all of us!!! I am so touched by this Lisa. She told God that they needed you and you needed all of them too. You are precious family!!! Love and hugs.

  6. Thank you, Sharon and Debby...that means so much to me!

  7. Amazing Lisa! you did a wonderful job and you wrote an amazing story. Thank God you came into Brittany, Trevor, Vinny and Hope's life. They would not be who they are if you did not. Thank you!! Bridgette

  8. Oh Bridgette, you are making me cry! Thank you so much. You and your family are amazingly gracious and I am so thankful for each of you.