Like Mark Twain said. . .

. . . reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

My friend Ann called yesterday evening.

“I got home today to find a message on my voice mail from your mom. Um, I know she’s not really, well, with it mentally, so I took it with a grain of salt, but. . . did you know she thinks you’re dead?”

“She what?!?”

“I didn’t quite get it all, but it sounds like she thinks you’re dead.”

I checked the incoming call list. Nothing from Mom. I called Mom. No answer (no surprise). I tried again, several times over the next hour or two. After all, I’d just seen her the day before.

Eventually, I called the nurses and told them what I knew of the situation. They laughed, said she was in the activity room watching a movie (my mother? Watching a movie?!), they hadn’t heard her express any worry about me, and they wouldn’t bring it up unless she did, since we all assumed she’d forget about it by the time the movie was over. I called Mom a few more times after that but didn’t get her. Again, no surprise.

Nine p.m. and the phone rings (she’s usually logging zzzs by 8 p.m.). It’s Mom. I pick up the receiver and say hi.

“Rob?” she croaks. “Is that you?”

“Um, this is your daughter,” I said. “Why were you calling Rob?”

“My daughter?!? Anna?? Is that you?!?”

“Yes, Mom, it’s me.”

“Oh, you’re alive! Are you really alive? Are you in the hospital?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m at home. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s happened.”

Turns out she’d “had a vision” that I’d been in “a ter-r-rible car accident” (you have to read that with her solemn intonation to get the full effect) and been killed. She’d been looking up phone numbers “all day long” (which could really mean all day, or just the last couple of hours) and calling my friends to ask if they knew I was dead. Fortunately, Ann called or I’d never have known, because Mom did not try calling me (or at least she didn’t think she did).

Obviously that would have been useless, since I was dead. :wry grin:

Except for the fact that the poor dear was frantic, it’s kinda funny; but my goodness, how she must have been frightened. What makes me squint is her use of the word “vision.” It was probably a vivid nightmare, but. . . as my friend Rick and I were discussing, there is that filter in your mind that tells you whether something’s real or imaginary. Apparently poor ol’ Grandma’s is either stretched to its limit, breaking, or done gone. Sigh.

Posted by wordsmith



Congratulations on being not-dead. I am relieved to hear that you have yet to pass on to the next stage of existence, whatever that may be. 🙂 Please continue the good work of living. 😉

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