Music of Angels

Just minutes after I pressed the "publish" button on that last post, the telephone rang. It was the hospital, calling to let us know that my mother in law's breathing had started to get worse. We rushed to the hospital, and for the following forty-eight hours we all took turns sitting quietly with her, making sure she was never alone.

She passed away peacefully on Saturday morning. I was sitting with her when all of a sudden, without any warning, she simply stopped breathing.

God, I miss her. She was such a central part of our lives that I still can't believe she's gone.

I'll never forget the first time I met her. I was working at Coles on Sparks Street in Ottawa and Fran and her roommate and her mother came in, laughing and smiling and completely brightening up the entire store. Fran and her mother were close, like sisters and best friends in the way they shopped and did things together. And I remember being so impressed at how youthful and spirited her mother was. And, like her daughter, she was a knockout.

I've included a photo of the three of us taken at our wedding. I've always loved this candid shot of us smiling and laughing while talking to each other. I think that's one of the best ways to express what Francine's Mom was to us.

Francine's Mom was the strongest woman I've ever known, and had this very unique creative touch in everything she did. I'll never forget the first time I listened to her play the piano. Immediately after hearing her play for the first time, I wrote the following poem.

Music of Angels
by Mark Leslie

Her fingers dance effortlessly
Across the ebony and ivory keys
Like tiny dancers moving a split second ahead
of the music they know so well
The notes rise and glide forth through the air
Beautiful and timeless
Yet they fit this moment so well

As she plays I am no longer in a closed room
I am breathing in a fresh cool ocean breeze
with the warmth of the sun upon my face
As the flashes of brilliant colourful light superimpose
themselves on gentle waves sliding up the beach
from the sea

I stare in awe at the woman who is creating this magic
And I think of how incredible it is that
such a moving, powerful piece of music
Can come from anything less than a chorus of angels
Then it occurs to me that this is merely one
of her beautiful miracles
And I smile across the room at her first miracle
The one sworn to me by marriage

She always treated me like a son, and I loved her like my own mother. I always got a kick out of how supportive she was in my writing. She never read a single word of one of my short stories (because she didn't like to be creeped out by the horror I wrote) but she insisted on owning and cherished signed copies of my work that she bragged to others about.

And on a wry note, I was slightly disappointed at how much I liked and respected her. Because once I met her, all of those stereotypical jokes about "mother-in-law" were completely lost on me -- our relationship was never like that at all. She was 'Mom' to me. A constant support, a constant joy.

As I said, there's now this huge void. This loss is difficult, but sharing stories about her life right now with family and friends is at least comforting. And I know that the music of her love will continue to echo in our hearts forever.