The failing heart was not lost on the Matron.
Here's how the heart works:
You hold that baby, one minute old and look into the face of eternal love. You're exhausted and spent, but the love means you can sprint the globe.
There's the wedding. Yes, gifts and receptions are good. But those minutes alone with someone who loves you beyond all else?
You're in college and a horrible series of events ensue. You call your best friend (thank you Sherri) and not only does she listen, but she shows up in about an hour to help you move out of your dorm room into a better place. Without asking.
Every tooth your child loses. The Tooth Fairy is love.
The day your 9 year old comes home with a question about what being White, Black or Asian means and wonders if he should feel guilt; he's confused because his family runs the racial gamut. The answer is no to guilt but understand history and current status. Not guilt, but resolution.
Your husband looks at you behind the backs of the arguing children and throws a kiss.
The 75 blood hound puppy throws himself on top of you at 5:30 am. The older dog, now six, is sound asleep.
Elizabeth Taylor. Let's just say she lived love. Good-bye, my dear.
Giving your father's eulogy. Just toss in an extra dollar with your tip and you'll be remembering someone the Matron loved.
Driving 3 hours a day to theaters, baseball, tennis, violin.
The end of the day . . . watching stupid late night TV and talking. Holding hands. Let's just say that 20 years is good. Please -- she knows this is sappy but it's true.
Making sure everyone does homework.
Watering the plants and tending to the garden.
Tucking everyone in at night.
This is the heart. Certainly, there's an organ that pumps blood and the Matron hopes hers -- and her mother's -- works hard for many years. But the heart? As metaphor and meaning in the world?
Watch the face of your child tonight.