A Piece of Peace

There is something about working a jigsaw puzzle with another human being. That celebrating smile and nod, when the other person finds a piece and taps it gently into its place. Your eyes lock with the others, for just that tiny second in time. “Good one!” Your eyes exclaim to each other.

It's teamwork, at its quietest. I imagine, in a way, not unlike two surgeons working on a patient together. Delicate movements and intense applying of learned connections. Eyes searching over the layout, like a child studying a bug. Sizing up angles, matching colors, and playing that old memory game. The which one goes with the other thoughts. That amazement when shapes actually do fit, and they surprise you. Like in life when things actually go right.

After my mother learned she was dying of lung cancer, she always had a large jigsaw puzzle out. It would be spread out on her little white farmhouse table, in the living room. Anyone that stopped by was invited to help put some of the pieces together. There was always an empty chair waiting for you, right across the table from her.

That silent time of sitting across the table from my mom, is more embedded in my mind than the loud times. More so than parties, Christmas, or dinners. Just that quiet time. Listening to each other think. I am sure she invited people to sit down on purpose. She wanted you to stay. Genius idea. Who can leave a table when they have found a couple pieces to a puzzle? Why, now you are hooked!

I often wondered if she was trying to see how many whole jigsaw puzzles, she could finish, until she passed away. Instead of, “You have a year left to live, Sally,” the doctor should have said, “You have many jigsaw puzzles left to do, Sally,”

In the very last puzzle that we did together, the last two pieces were missing. We searched everywhere around the table. After she passed, I found those two pieces. They had managed to wedge their way into a corner, far from the table.

I kept those two pieces. I still have them. When I look at them, I feel peace. I can feel the same comfortable quiet that I felt when I sat there. I can still hear the simple sound of my mom breathing and humming, while doing the jigsaw puzzle. Peaceful contentedness is what I hear.

The other day I picked up a Pokémon jigsaw puzzle for my grandson and me to do. I love watching him tap those pieces into the puzzle with his little fingers and that “got one!” grin. I hope he remembers the sound of my contented breathing. I hope it gives him peace too.