While making our way through our mother’s home we randomly picked items to give a new home too. There was anything from electronics to books to wood crafts and home decor, scraps of cloth for quilts, craft projects not finished to the closets full of clothes.
My emotions as we made our way through the house were for the most part relatively fine. Then there were those moments of weakened heart and tears upon my cheeks. Tugs at my heart that I thought were not going to pass.
One of those moments occurred when we stepped into her bathroom. We started opening cabinet doors and pulling items out.
There was a bottle of perfume.
I wasn’t really feeling over emotional, I wasn’t a lover of this scent. But as soon as I pulled the lid off I instantly knew I wanted the bottle. The bottle held the scent of my mother. I simply asked if anyone wanted it and that I did, it smelled of her. As those last words came out of my mouth I fell apart.
The tears, the loud cries, the hard to breath moments of when you are crying so hard you feel your body physically hurt. But before I knew it I had three people hugging me tightly, surrounding me with so much grace and care I couldn’t feel anything but safe.
Standing in that small bathroom, four adults that had lost their last parent, their mother, made their bond stronger by their actions. I was the weak one at that moment, they were strong (no doubt by God’s handiwork). Another time it will be one of them that is weak and I will be part of the strength.
Honestly, I can not truly express words to describe having my three older siblings embracing me. Telling me it’s alright when I say I’m sorry, and knowing every one of them is genuine in their love for me.
The perfume’s name is Beautiful – I find it a fitting description of the security of that moment. All while in a small bathroom on a Sunday afternoon and will be forever in my mind and heart. Beautiful.
Grace is a gift,