The days after my sister died three years ago, I saw and heard her everywhere. Walking across the parking lot at work. In the evening, sitting on the couch, I would hear her voice. On the anniversary of her death, I came across the holy card with her picture on it.
The same thing has been happening to me with my father. I see my dad disappearing around the corner at Walmart. I hear his gravelly whisper at night. Just yesterday, I swear I saw him at Menards when I shopping for a bathroom vanity and sink.
I carry these people around with me everywhere. Can't get away from them.
Saint Marty is thankful today for these moments when my dead are alive again.
Carry
by: Billy Collins
I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.
Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a row boat on the far said of the lake.
They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.
