The casket lay before her in a quiet splendor all its own.  To those not knowing, it could have been anyone in that silvery grey box.  To her it was the man she had spent a lifetime with. . . and yet in so many ways had not.

Caroline closed her eyes in the quiet, peaceful, solitude of the room.  She thought back to the many, many, times she had sat in the pew alone while other widows grieved, while brides walked down the aisle, while children were dedicated, and sermons were preached.  For you see, the life of a minister’s wife is a lonely one at times; albeit, mostly a loneliness of the heart.

Oh, to be sure she, and other wives of her ilk, covered it well.  Yet it was a lonely, lonely existence with the needs of others always coming first.  It was one of service and care, with those things more often than not being given willingly from her to those they served.  One of long nights waiting for her husband to come home after hours spent at the bedside of a family in need; of days on end alone while he prepared for his sermon, or spent time fishing or on the golf course with the men of their congregation.

The times in which her husband had actually sat beside her to experience either life or death were few and far between; for he was most often in the pulpit, teaching, preaching, praying for, and ministering to those he served.  Even when it was her own father and mother, she had sat alone while he preached the sermon that had sent them home to be with the Lord.

For sure, her children were there, but by then they had spouses of their own and their arm was around the shoulder of that one closest to them; as it should have been.  How often had she longed for that one time in their lives when he could have been all hers?

“And yet, that is not to say that it has all been a bad or terrible experience,” she thought, “it simply is what it is.  After over fifty years of living this life, how can I not see the good in it?  We have had a wonderful lifetime of serving and giving back to the Kingdom of God.  I truly would not exchange it for any other.”

For most of their ministry life, she had filled the loneliness with busy work.  She served as the women’s ministry leader, Sunday school teacher, or prayer warrior.  She had even gotten a degree in nursing and had worked in the local hospital while they were growing the church and raising the children.  Keeping busy helped to fill the void.

Over the years, it was not uncommon for people in the congregation to approach her and comment on how lovely and serene she looked sitting in her usual seat in the balcony; a serenity that cost more than they would ever know.  For, those who had never sat where she sat could not begin to understand the aloneness she felt at times, in spite of the many people constantly surrounding her.

Caroline had asked for these few moments alone with Charles, before her children and the rest of the family and friends were invited to join her.  This would be the final service her loved one would participate in; the final time he would hold the spotlight and shine, as only he could do.  She needed these few moments.  Surely, to sit beside him this one time, in a manner befitting her position was not too much to ask.

Remembering the look on the funeral director’s face when she’d asked for the tall wing back chair to be placed immediately beside the casket, and the lid left open, caused Caroline to nearly burst out laughing.  Striving valiantly to stifle the chuckle that threatened to pour from her throat even now, she managed to maintain her usual decorum.  The poor man had seemed almost affronted at this strange and unusual request.  However, to his credit he complied with nary a word of offense.

Now, as she sat in the chair, her elegant silver head leaned back against the headrest, she began speaking quietly, and calmly, to her husband one last time.

“Charles, I wanted to have this moment alone to tell you how very proud I have been of you all these long years.  You have never given me a moment of doubt as to your love and devotion.  You have never caused me the anxiety some women experience in wondering where and what their husbands might be doing.  Always, you were the epitome of decorum and moral fortitude.  For that, I thank you.  I also thank you for the opportunity you gave me to become my own person.  Perhaps if you had sat by my side as so many do, listening to the pontifications of others preaching, we would not have had such a good marriage.”

Breathing a small sigh, she continued on, “However, I do have one small matter to leave with you. . . Couldn’t you, just this once, have allowed me to go on ahead first; for you to be the one to sit alone for a change?  I mean really, would it have been asking so very much?  Now, I am left to carry on and to lead a life that seems so strange and foreign to me, the life of widowhood.  Alone.”

Of course no answer was forthcoming, but then, what had she expected?  Yet, it felt good, to at least lay that one little complaint before his feet, and at the feet of Jesus.  Perhaps somehow God’s mercy would carry her through.

Remaining in the chair, as the door slowly opened with a soft swish as some do, Caroline graciously waved the arriving family members into the room.

“Here son, you and your family may sit on the front pew.  That will make me feel good.  Your sister and her family can sit there as well.  Together you all will fill up the row.”

“But Mother, don’t you want to sit there?”  Her son inquired gently as he bent tenderly over her.

“No dear, I intend to sit right here beside your father this one time.  I am sure the world will understand.  And even if they don’t, you know, it’ll be alright.”

And so, she sat as the room filled with people.  She sat as the songs were sung and the sermon was preached.  She sat as the eulogy was read and tears were wiped from weeping eyes.  She sat as the last mourner made their way past the coffin; and the chair.  Accepting their murmured condolences with grace and dignity, she sat.

At the very end, the elegant lady rose gracefully.  She leaned over her husband, giving him a chaste kiss on his cold, cold, lips.

“At last, my dear. . .” she was heard to whisper, “we sat together.”