The shaft of light coming from the opening door, pierced the darkness that my eyes had become accustomed to. The door creaked as it slowly closed on its own and I felt her presence move in my direction. I took a slow step into the corner where I might not be noticed.
I was sure that the damp, musty smell of the chapel was immediately transformed by the scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just a lotion she was wearing. The smell was so subtle and yet so sweet against the dank aroma of old upholstery and moldy carpeting. She walked cautiously as her eyes, unlike mine, had not yet adjusted to the lack of light. And although with an unsure gate, she seemed to move with a specific destination in mind.
Had she sat in that pew before? The second row from the front on the left side. Had she bowed her head in this place like she was now? Her shoulders seemed to slump and I listened for a sound coming from her. Any sound. But I heard nothing but the low whining of an aged air conditioner struggling to do its job.
I feared she would sense my presence. I steadied myself against the wall so as not to disturb her. She sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity and then raised her head appearing to gaze toward the altar. I didn't remember turning on an alter light, but suddenly there it was - a soft ray falling against the wooden cross that had hung there forever in my memory.
She walked up to the alter, placed a kiss on her hand, and then held it to the cross for a moment. As she turned to walk away, I saw the shadow of her face for the first time. I recognized her. I saw the tears on her cheeks. She had been here before. Many times. Always sitting in the same row. Always placing a kiss on the hand-carved cross. I knew her story. The cross had been carved by her friend. Her "Pops" as he was called, had passed on years before, but not before saying one last time, "If no one has told you today, God loves you and I love you too."
She paused for a moment before she opened the door to leave. I thought I heard her crying. Or was it just my imagination. I wanted to step out of the darkness to offer her comfort but I intuitively knew she had found the comfort and peace she had come looking for. I knew this because I, too, had come to this place many times before - to cry, to heal, to find peace - just as she had.
