Recorded Emotions

                                                                                                                                                Usually, there were sounds and expressions of grief upon being informed of their passing.  Each family member's passing ignited a sound or brief words which identified the emotion of the moment, unique to each one. 

Case in point:
The death of my mother in March of 1998.  My pager sounded, and at the next exit, I pulled off the freeway and called my office.  When my supervisor said that I should call home right away, I knew that the news was not good.  I phoned home, and my wife informed me of my mother's passing in Chicago.  There was a calming, a numbing, and a pausing.  Then I quietly uttered my first words, "Mama's gone".  

Case in point:                                                                                             
The death of my oldest sister in 1999.  A call came from a younger sister stating that our sister would not survive the head injury she incurred from being hit by a car on a Chicago street.  She was all but brain dead at the time,  and realizing her impending death, words ceased, and I went ballistic.  A 'deep gush of grief and sorrow' overwhelmed me with loud crying, and I could barely breathe.

Case in point:
The death of an older brother in the Spring of 2003.  A call came from St. Louis, informing my wife of my brother's death.  I was very subdued as a numbing silence swept over me.  The only words I remember uttering were,  "Oh Calvin".

Case in Point:
In December of 2003, a call came informing me that a younger sister in Indiana had passed away.  I was 'speechless'. My grief was deep with not       a word but a silence of sadness.

Case in point:
Word came in November of 2012 that another sister in Indiana had passed away.  I was fortunate enough to have spent some quality time with her earlier in the summer of that year. I was with her as she battled for her life during hospice care.  Although the doctor had given her very little hope, she seemed to be on the winning side when my wife and I departed for home.  Four months later, she died. When I received the fateful call of her demise, all that I could utter was, "Huh".  It was a grunt of bewilderment.  It was a grunt that essentially said, "O Lord, I thought she was going to beat that cancer".  I could not speak my grunt, but God read my spirit and understood every word. "Huh".       04082017PSContest

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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