By Nancy Cooper
I talked to her when I was driving. She had been dead a month when I started the habit; once I had to pull over because the conversation got so heated, and my tears kept me from seeing clearly. She’d been old, tired, and ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to lose her, so she allowed us to start our little conversations. She was very present, laughing at me when I became overly dramatic. I could hear her: “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she would say. That made me mad, but not as mad as I was at her for dying.
Good one. Funny and real.
Thanks, Tony!
This is heart-wrenching. When my father died I did the same thing–I talked to him in my car. I tried to imagine the things he would say back to me if her were still alive. Because I knew him so well, I often got imagined answers that were different from what I had thought myself. And I often followed his advice.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? How we keep hearing their voices, and then they say things that surprise us. Thanks for writing.
A very poignant story. Heartbreaking.
Thank you, Schuyler. I appreciate your writing –
I wrote a story about my late Father’s war service – he was an ordinary soldier, a humble person, no decorated hero or such. When I read it at Writers Group, as I said his words I could hear him saying them and I cried. Your story resonates with me.
Thank you so much, Barry. I think we probably never stop hearing their voices.
Great essay, Nancy!
Thanks so much, Riley!
I very much like it. And maybe she was talking to you! I remember waking at 3 a.m. and I swear I heard my father growl my name the way he did when he wanted to gossip. The piece is a sweet and funny way to grieve.
Thank you so much, Sue! I appreciate your comments —
That’s so real. Nice flash. I so can hear the “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”