Sunday, June 20, 2010

Ghost in the Machine

Sometimes I call mom when I know she’s out just to hear your voice on the answering machine. She hasn’t erased your message yet, even six months later. I love the hearty matter-of-factness in which you announce, “We’re not here right now, please leave a message,” and I want to leave a note so you will call me back. I play old videos, not so much to see you – your face is indelibly ingrained in my heart – but to hear you. Sometimes, the question troubling me gets answered by your response to some other conversation a decade ago, a weird sort of time-traveling Ouija board, guiding me, listening.

I only wish I could hug something more substantial than your voice, ephemeral in air and time.

Happy Father’s Day…


  1. Oh, I'm sorry for your loss. Have a nice Father's Day. *hug*

  2. Love and hugs Linda.

  3. OK, you made me bawl... my mom finally erased his voice on the answering machine and I wish she hadn't.
    I hate Father's Day now.. it makes me feel orphaned.
    Big hugs.
    It never stops hurting, does it?

  4. I lost my dad in 1991 and not a day goes by where I don't think about him... This was such a warm tribute, Linda...

  5. Hi Linda - here's a hug. Did many laps at Relay for Life event Saturday on a beautiful half moon evening - thinking about all the losses to cancer in the past 2 years.

  6. This is so sweet and beautiful it made me teary!
    Again, I'm so sorry for your loss... hugs!

  7. Quite moving, Linda. The love never dies.