He also spoke of an experience when a woman's husband had gone into a coma and she had been desperately praying for him to recover. Her struggle and absolute need of having him return to their life is something that I could really grasp onto. Heavenly Father had another plan for her and during one of her prayers, her husband woke up to briefly say, "Let me go." She returned to her prayer knowing that she couldn't hold him here any longer and immediately following, her husband left her presence. I felt chills through my entire being when my husband was telling me this and am teary-eyed now while writing it down. I can understand this woman's plea to not be separated from her husband, to not have to endure this crushing divide.
This reminded me of Leslie Norris' poem, "Hudson's Geese," which is such a heart wrenching poem. I pulled alongside the road last week, one sparkling day, not far from the river and took a photo of the lovely geese which were floating in the overflowing river water.
Hudson tells us of them,
the two migrating geese,
she hurt in the wing
indomitably walking
the length of a continent,
and he wheeling above
calling his distress.
They could not have lived.
Already I see her wing
scraped past the bone
as she drags it through rubble.
A fox, maybe, took her
in his snap jaws. And what
would he do, the point
of his circling gone?
The wilderness of his cry
falling through an air
turned instantly to winter
would warn the guns of him.
If a fowler dropped him,
let it have been quick,
pellets hitting brain
and heart so his weight
came down senseless,
and nothing but his body
to enter the dog's mouth.
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