Disclaimer: My story, but not my characters. Stan Lee thought up Spider-Man, and I thank him for allowing us viewers and comic lovers to play with his characters.
Anna May Parker, wife to the late Benjamin Reilly Parker, and aunt to Peter B. Parker, was no stranger to waking alone. Having lived through the Great Depression, and supporting her family during other economic turbulent times, she was also used to getting up with the daybreak.
Her open window allowed the first shafts of daylight to creep along the floor to her bed. It also allowed the songs of the pigeons and other early-morning birds to gently stir her awake. Occasionally, if she was patiently waiting for her nephew to come home, she could catch the faint sounds of Peter slipping through his bedroom window. During the summer, the heat seeped out and brought in a refreshing cool breeze at the end of the day.
Today, the dawn of her anniversary of the wonderful wedding to Ben Parker, she stepped outside in the still early-morning chill, dressed as if on her way to the Farmer's Market (which would open in an hour or so), and walked down the road of her home, to a local rose nursery owned by a friend of her late sister's. This particular Rose Nursery and Garden opened with sunrise and closed at sundown.
Mrs. May Parker slowly wandered along the carefully maintained brick walkways. It was always a pleasure to smell the roses—or any other flowers that were blooming. Today, June 10th, May Parker smiled in bittersweet remembrance while listening to the Finches chirp their greetings. She came close to touching the roses still damp with dew, but refrained.
When Mrs. May Parker turned to go, a voice caught on the wind caught her ear. Her brow wrinkled a little bit in puzzlement. The voice she thought she heard sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.
Following the unplaced voice she came upon a knoll and walked to the top of the mound. Hidden from first glance, or even careful searching, was an old, wooden support pillar for a nursery building that had been replaced many years ago. Encircling, even climbing this pillar was a thorny plant that had flowers beginning to open.
At the base of the aged support beam was the figure of her late husband, kneeling with his face towards the rising sun. He slowly stood and turned, beckoning Anna May Parker to come. Stunned, she slowly edged closer; her left hand reaching out while her right touched the rosary kept in her shirt pocket from her childhood, and always carried with her. Her left hand slipped into, and then through his right hand.
Ben Parker turned back to face the sunrise. He sighed and glanced at the ground where black petals lay under his feet. His mouth moved, but Aunt May Parker still could not make out the words.
As the sun rose higher, the light illuminated the hidden outdoor room, and Ben slowly faded from sight. With her right hand still on the rosary beads she knelt where she first saw Ben, and gently rubbed the moss off the plaque in front of the thorny plant that climbed up seven feet before branching out two or three feet on either side. She found an inscription buried under the moss that read
You came from Heaven to Earth to show the way
From the Earth to the Cross, my debt to pay
From the Cross to the Grave
From the Grave to the Sky
Lord, I lift Your Name on High.
Gazing upward to the sun, which was now crowning the lone stick she pulled out her rosary and looked at the figure nailed to the cross. The flowers that were opening were red roses, starting from one foot above the ground, along the entire breath of the plant. Smiling again, she stood up and walked towards the front of the Rose Garden and thanked the daughter of the owner for allowing her to come in and look at the roses.
I don't know who wrote the chorus or words from Lord I Lift Your Name On High, but I thank whoever did, because that song has given me hope and still encourages me today.