Brother's touch

Brother sat by my side. We were sitting by mum's bedside, watching her sleep, watching her slip in and out of sleep and that half-conscious state of mind. Mum breathed heavily, and her mouth was half open. Her lips, in the span of only a couple of days, have become so dry that I have to regularly apply lip balm on them to keep them from chapping even more.

Mum opened her eyes slightly. I smiled at her gently, and wanted to reach out to touch her arm. Unexpectedly, brother called out: "Mama..." It was a sad and desperate call. A call out of hurt, out of deep concern and anguish. I turned to look him. His eyes were red, and a little moist. I saw him reach out his hand and touch mum's. I withdrew my hand, to give him a chance to express himself.

 My brother rarely touches mum, even though at times I urge him to. The other day, I joked with him: "How come you can touch your baby, touch your wife, but are embarrassed to touch mum?" But today, at that moment when he reached out his hand to touch mum's hand, it was such a touching sight. It was not even a grasp, but it was a start. Mum and son touching one another. Could there be a more beautiful connection?