The Mayday tree blossomed early in 2011.
I know this because I wheeled my wife
out in her wheelchair to sit beneath the sweet, otherworldly shroud of white
flowers. The bees had also come early to the tree. The entire expanse around
the tree vibrated with the hum of thousands of tiny wings.
Sitting in her chair, looking up into
the tree, Uyen smiled a much bigger smile than I imagined possible. She had, by
this time, lost her ability to walk or control most bodily functions. Cancer
had ravaged her wholesale. And yet, she remained beautiful. And she, too,
became part of that soft, living hum beneath the Mayday tree.
Only a few days later, on this very
day of the year, Uyen faded away entirely. The flowers on the Mayday—ephemeral
as they were—outlasted her.
Sometimes I wonder: if I had held her
tighter, if I had pleaded more, might she have endured longer than the flowers
on the Mayday tree?
Sometimes, the hurt comes back to me
as big and whole as it was that last day in May.
Today, we remember the grace and
beauty of Uyen Hegman.
—Mitchell Hegman
You don’t realize how much I also miss her. She was such an amazing lady.
ReplyDeleteI think about her at some point every day.
DeleteMiss her too !!!!!
ReplyDeleteShe was one in a billion.
DeleteWhat a wonderful woman. I think of her often and I miss her.
ReplyDeleteSo many of us miss her.
Delete