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.
When I was in high school the only activity I cared to get involved in was theater. I acted for a while until I found my real calling as a stage director. During our production of Glass Menagerie, my friend who was playing Amanda and I would spend the big scene between other characters - when she wasn't on stage - off stage, sitting in the darkened wings whispering. We covered a lot of topics until we one night got to ways we did not want to die. She said the only thing she really feared was fire.
ReplyDeleteThat winter her house burned down. Her nephew was horribly burned and needed skin grafts. My friend did not survive. But I kept seeing her. Around town she'd be walking just ahead of me. At school I'd hear her voice behind me in the hall and turn to search the faces for her. She lived with me for years. I finally moved from that small town but I have no doubt if I went back, I would find her waiting there.