Seven days ago, I died. Now, nobody will talk to me.
I know what you are thinking. It is impossible to speak to the dead.
But I refuse to believe it.
I never got to say good-bye. It was just a regular Monday.
I was driving to work and then they were pulling me out of the crushed car.
I knew my life on earth was over and I walked calmly back home.
There I waited and observed my husband and daughter comfort each other.
Their love for me is immense and so strong that I could feel it wash over me.
Yet, they did not talk to me.
The last week I have seen many loved ones come and go.
They tell stories and laugh. The share memories and cry.
They all know that I never feared my spirit’s release
and that I want them to remember me living.
Still, no one talked to me.
I stood around. I moved among them. I whispered in their ears. They smile.
But they said nothing.
Today, my ashes are released over the river I love so much.
I can feel a part of me join the gentle current. Freedom lifts me.
Then a tiny voice stops my ascent.
She is talking to me.
“Mom? I don’t know if you can hear me—but I wanted to tell you that…
that I am so lucky to have had you.”
My heart feels heavy and alive.
I find myself standing in front of my beautiful child.
I resent the time I will not have. I miss the moments that will never be.
I caress her moist cheek and say into the wind,
“You will always have me. I love you.”
She smiles. “I know. I love you, too.”
Joy lifts my spirit and this time I rise quickly.
I know as I look down at her…
She will always hear my voice and
someone will talk to me.