I decided this morning that it was time to clear out my voice mails. You know what I’m talking about – all those calls that go to voice mail and you never listen to them, you just see the number and call the people back. Plus all the ones you started to listen to then stopped and never hit delete. All of those messages that one has to listen to in order to hear the one new message that is waiting for you.
I made myself a fresh cup of coffee, sat in my comfy chair, hit the speakerphone button on my phone and dialed my voicemail. The first voice I hear coming through my phone is my fathers. My father passed away almost 3 years ago, and his voice was certainly not something I was prepared for. I hit the resave button, all the while telling myself I would deal with that one later. The next message brought my mother’s voice into the room. Mother passed away last November, and I most certainly was not expecting nor was I prepared for her voice to fill the room. My father chimed in with her, and I was frozen in time.
I wanted to hit the resave button, but I found myself frozen in my chair, tears running down my face unable to move, and instead of resave, I hit the number on my phone which would make the message replay.
I closed my eyes and let their voices take me to another time. Not necessarily a better or happier time, just another time. A time when I had parents who were alive and I wasn’t that person who was nobody’s baby. A time when I was a daughter and a sister and a cousin; and even if things were complicated – I belonged to a family.
I decided to just let my grief and my tears come. Grief is a very strange thing – it comes upon me like a wave and I know that I must simply let it be what it is. To fight and say I’m okay – well – it’s useless – for I am most certainly not okay.
I feel lost – although I know I am not – I feel alone – which I most certainly am not – and I feel somehow out of sync with the world – which at this moment – I most certainly am.
I hit the number on my phone which resaves my messages, sit back in my rocker and as I taste the salt from my tears – I smile. For one brief moment – I was once again a daughter and I was – for a moment in time – somebody’s baby…