I thought I would add this poem by e.e. cummings.  It reminds me of the way I feel about my mom.  The book, "Conversations with Flowers" was published in 1963, a pivotal year of loss that included my father as well as J.F.K.

e.e. cummings: if there are any heavens my mother...

 
if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have 
one.  It will not be a pansy heaven nor 
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but 
it will be a heaven of blackred roses 

my father will be(deep like a rose 
tall like a rose) 

standing near my 

(swaying over her 
silent) 
with eyes which are really petals and see 

nothing with the face of a poet really which 
is a flower and not a face with 
hands 
which whisper 
This is my beloved my 

            (suddenly in sunlight 

he will bow, 

& the whole garden will bow)