I sat beside you on your bed, invoked the Holy Presence and murmured it under my breath. When I saw that look of affirmation I knew you wanted me to speak louder. It wasn't that I was shy to say the prayer with you with other people in the opposite side of the room. I just wanted to share the moment with you like that last time when I went home for the weekend. We chanted the Lauds together. I knew that made you happy. I was joyful to share that moment with you.
As I read the psalm, still in a low voice so no one else can hear but just you and me, I couldn't help but look at you as I mouthed the words from the psalmist. If only you could speak to tell me something, but I understand, each word you muster would take your breath away so easily. Instead I saw that look of affection in your eyes. My heart wept.
I never got to finish the rest of the morning prayers with you. I was too shy to share that intimate moment with other people in the room. The nurses also came in to do their routine health check - what a lame excuse.
There's that pang of regret on why I couldn't finish it or why I couldn't recite it louder or even chant those prayers for you. I can tell myself now that every time I chant the Lauds and give glory to our Lord at the start of the day, I know I will share it with you.
But it will never be the same as having you say the prayers me. It will never be the same as saying them with you even if you just breathed the words of praise to our Lord with me as I tightly held your hand.
