phone call, the Christmas card.
You might ask if he ever explained what happened between him and my mother. He didn't. He simply said, "It didn't work out between us. "
If I pressed him, he would add, "You wouldn't understand. " The worst he ever said about my mother was, "She's a hard-headed woman. "
It was as if they had made this pact to never speak about what drove them apart. But I asked them both the question, and only my father lowered his eyes when he answered.
The Second Visit Ends
"POSEY, " MISS THELMA WHISPERED, "I'm gonna visit with my grandchildren for a spell. "
She looked much better than when she'd rung the bell at my mother's house. Her face was smooth and her eyes and lips were done nicely.
My mother had brushed out her dyed orange tresses, and for the first time I realized that Miss Thelma was an attractive woman, and must have been a knockout when she was young.
My mother laid a kiss on Miss Thelma's cheek, then closed her bag and motioned for me to follow. We stepped into the hallway, where a little girl with her hair in braids was heading toward us, clomping her feet.
"Grandma? " she said. "Are you 'wake? "
I stepped back, but she walked right past us, never looking up. She was followed by a little boy–maybe her brother?–who stopped in the doorway and put a finger in his mouth. I reached out and waved a hand before his face. Nothing. It was clear we were invisible to them.
"Mom, " I stammered. "What's going on?” She was looking at Miss Thelma, whose granddaughter was now on the bed. They were playin' some kind of pat-a-cake. My mother had tears in her eyes.
"Is Miss Thelma dying, too?" "Soon," my mother said.
I stepped in front of her. "Mom. Please?"
"She called for me, Charley."
We both looked toward the bed. "Miss Thelma? She summoned you?"
"No, sweetheart. I came to her mind, that's all. I was a thought. She wished I was still around and could help her look pretty, not as sick, so here I was."
"A thought?" I looked down. "I'm lost."
My mother moved closer. Her voice softened. "Have you ever dreamt of someone who's gone, Charley, but in die dream you have a new conversation? The world you enter then is not so far from the world I'm in now."
She put one hand on mine. "When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times."
On the bed, the little girl played with Miss Thelma's hair. Miss Thelma grinned and glanced over at us.
"Do you remember the old lady Golinski?" my mother said.
I remembered. A patient at the hospital. Terminal illness. She was dying. But she used to tell my mother every day about people who
'Visited" her. People from her past with whom she spoke and laughed.
My mother recounted this at the dinner table, how she'd peek in the room and see the old lady Golinski with her eyes closed, smiling and mumbling in some invisible conversation. My father called her "crazy. "
She died a week later.
"She wasn't crazy," my mother said now. "Then Miss Thelma is ... "
"Close. " My mother's eyes narrowed. "It's easier to talk to the dead the closer you get. "
I felt a cold flush from my shoulders to my feet. "Does that mean I'm
... " I meant to say "dying. " I meant to say "gone. "
"You're my son, " she whispered. "That's what you are. " I swallowed.
"How much time do I have?"
"Some, " she said. “Not a lot? " "What's a lot? "
"I don't know, Mom. Will I be with you forever, or will you be gone in a minute? "
"You can find something truly important in a minute," she said.
Suddenly, all the glass in Miss Thelma's house exploded, windows, mirrors, TV screens. The shattering pieces flew around us as if we stood in the vortex of a hurricane. A voice from outside thundered over it all.
" CHARLES BENETTO ! I KNO W YOU CAN HEAR ME ! ANS WER ME! "
"What do I do? " I screamed to my mother.
She blinked calmly as the glass swirled around her. "That's up to you, Charley," she said.
IV. Night
The Sunlight
You might ask if he ever explained what happened between him and my mother. He didn't. He simply said, "It didn't work out between us. "
If I pressed him, he would add, "You wouldn't understand. " The worst he ever said about my mother was, "She's a hard-headed woman. "
It was as if they had made this pact to never speak about what drove them apart. But I asked them both the question, and only my father lowered his eyes when he answered.
The Second Visit Ends
"POSEY, " MISS THELMA WHISPERED, "I'm gonna visit with my grandchildren for a spell. "
She looked much better than when she'd rung the bell at my mother's house. Her face was smooth and her eyes and lips were done nicely.
My mother had brushed out her dyed orange tresses, and for the first time I realized that Miss Thelma was an attractive woman, and must have been a knockout when she was young.
My mother laid a kiss on Miss Thelma's cheek, then closed her bag and motioned for me to follow. We stepped into the hallway, where a little girl with her hair in braids was heading toward us, clomping her feet.
"Grandma? " she said. "Are you 'wake? "
I stepped back, but she walked right past us, never looking up. She was followed by a little boy–maybe her brother?–who stopped in the doorway and put a finger in his mouth. I reached out and waved a hand before his face. Nothing. It was clear we were invisible to them.
"Mom, " I stammered. "What's going on?” She was looking at Miss Thelma, whose granddaughter was now on the bed. They were playin' some kind of pat-a-cake. My mother had tears in her eyes.
"Is Miss Thelma dying, too?" "Soon," my mother said.
I stepped in front of her. "Mom. Please?"
"She called for me, Charley."
We both looked toward the bed. "Miss Thelma? She summoned you?"
"No, sweetheart. I came to her mind, that's all. I was a thought. She wished I was still around and could help her look pretty, not as sick, so here I was."
"A thought?" I looked down. "I'm lost."
My mother moved closer. Her voice softened. "Have you ever dreamt of someone who's gone, Charley, but in die dream you have a new conversation? The world you enter then is not so far from the world I'm in now."
She put one hand on mine. "When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times."
On the bed, the little girl played with Miss Thelma's hair. Miss Thelma grinned and glanced over at us.
"Do you remember the old lady Golinski?" my mother said.
I remembered. A patient at the hospital. Terminal illness. She was dying. But she used to tell my mother every day about people who
'Visited" her. People from her past with whom she spoke and laughed.
My mother recounted this at the dinner table, how she'd peek in the room and see the old lady Golinski with her eyes closed, smiling and mumbling in some invisible conversation. My father called her "crazy. "
She died a week later.
"She wasn't crazy," my mother said now. "Then Miss Thelma is ... "
"Close. " My mother's eyes narrowed. "It's easier to talk to the dead the closer you get. "
I felt a cold flush from my shoulders to my feet. "Does that mean I'm
... " I meant to say "dying. " I meant to say "gone. "
"You're my son, " she whispered. "That's what you are. " I swallowed.
"How much time do I have?"
"Some, " she said. “Not a lot? " "What's a lot? "
"I don't know, Mom. Will I be with you forever, or will you be gone in a minute? "
"You can find something truly important in a minute," she said.
Suddenly, all the glass in Miss Thelma's house exploded, windows, mirrors, TV screens. The shattering pieces flew around us as if we stood in the vortex of a hurricane. A voice from outside thundered over it all.
" CHARLES BENETTO ! I KNO W YOU CAN HEAR ME ! ANS WER ME! "
"What do I do? " I screamed to my mother.
She blinked calmly as the glass swirled around her. "That's up to you, Charley," she said.
IV. Night
The Sunlight
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