The Stay-at-Home Ghost

Cheryl is always bossing me around. She thinks that just because she died first makes her in charge around here, but she forgot one little fact. I am the matriarch in this house.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention, I’m a ghost, a specter, a phantasm, an apparition, honestly, whatever floats your boat.

You want to know how I got here? Well, I’m going to make this nice and brief because no one wants to linger on a sob story, especially me. I am just getting over it.

So, here’s the long and short of it. I got stage 4 breast cancer when my youngest was just a year and half. I was given all the hope in the world- “Hannah, you are so young and strong”… “You have too much to live for”… “You’ll kick cancer’s butt”- but, yet, here I am, haunting my family. Didn’t beat cancer’s butt. It beat me up for a year and a half before it took me out. Yes, that first year was hard. Not going to relive that. The kids were a mess. Jay, my loving husband, was beside himself. And let’s not forget about me. I absolutely grieved for myself. I was missing out on everything.

But, it’s been over a year now, and we are all adjusting to a new normal. Come to find out, you get to haunt the place where you died. Which is really cool since I finally get to be a stay-at-home mom, in the ghostly sense. Super pumped we went with the home death thing rather than the hospital. Could you imagine the crowds there?

That’s how I met Cheryl, the know-it-all ghost herself. I mean she has been helpful, giving me tips about adjusting to ghost life and all, but if I was being honest, I wish I could have convinced Jay to move into a new development. Could have saved me from having to share my haunted home. Cheryl also passed on here, but she was alone and elderly. And don’t even get me started on Crazy John haunting that sprawling oak tree out back. I swear, he has never once smiled at me. But his presence does explain the kid’s hesitation with the tree house we built.

I have surprisingly begun to enjoy being a stay-at-home mom ghost. My days look a little different though. Cheryl explained to me that ghosts have a reverse circadian rhythm due to the spectral goo coursing through our ethereal bodies which, in layman’s terms, means we wake up as night descends and feel sleepy during the day. Just like all moms though, I have a job to do. So, I force my tired self out of bed when Jay and the kids come home. I’ve even developed a sort of schedule that I think is working for all of us.

First thing I do is play with 4-year-old Jonah. The surprising thing is that young kids can totally see ghosts and interact with them. Cheryl told me that her and my now 8-year-old Reilly used to have vivid conversations and even play dolls together. That does explain Reilly’s phase of calling all elderly women “Sherry.” But, I digress, Jonah and I mostly play with trains and cars. I ask him about Daddy and school and his siblings. Unfortunately, he isn’t a big talker. Most information I have to glean from eavesdropping. Who would have thought that Jay could be such a talker, especially to his mother, who is at my house at least twice a week folding the laundry all wrong and bringing over gluten-free desserts that end up in the trash.

After my little playtime with Jonah, it’s usually dinnertime. They are all so considerate and save me a seat at the table. Dinner is both the high and low point of my day. It’s great because I can catch up on how everyone is doing in school and in sports. Did you know that Cole, my 15-year-old, made JV basketball this year? Even more shocking is he has his first girlfriend, a petite little blonde thing. Doesn’t resemble me at all. Not sure how keen I am on that whole development. Jay has both girls, 12-year-old Tatum and Reilly, seeing a therapist. Not super happy about that either, and all because the girls say they keep seeing me in their dreams and hearing my voice at night. Of course, they do! I visit them regularly. The dimwitted therapist says it’s because they haven’t accepted my death and other nonsense. I’ve been trying to convince Jay to pull them out of therapy, but he just drowns me out every night with some nighttime cold medicine. The interesting thing about this though is Cole because I talk to him all the time and visit him in his dreams, and I know he is listening. I mean, how else would he remember to do his laundry the night before the big game? But that Cole never says a word about it. I knew he was the smart one, just like his mother. The problem with dinner is what is actually served. Jay, love him as I do, is a hapless cook. I knew that when I married him, but I didn’t intend to leave him by himself. You want to hear his meal rotation? Get this. Hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, spaghetti, sandwiches, fast food, and leftovers. What is missing? Any semblance of nutrition.

After dinner, I try to hint at the kids and Jay to clean up. I remind them to do laundry, sweep the floor, wipe down the table, clean the dishes, you name it. But they don’t always listen, which hasn’t changed in life or death.

Bedtime is when the real fun begins. Cheryl told me early on that when people sleep they become like young children, able to see and interact with ghosts. I take full advantage of this and visit everyone. Jonah is the easiest since I get to hang out with him during the day too. His messages usually include things like “Mommy is so proud of you” or “Mommy loves you.” The only challenge with Jonah is his memories of me in life are fading so I am trying to combat that by telling him stories about me and him, mostly about him as a baby. Then I move on to Reilly. She’s fun and spunky, just like an 8-year-old should be. I’ve got her mostly convinced not to listen that that therapist. Surprisingly, Reilly has a lot to say, particularly about her schoolwork and her friends. I try to take this opportunity to impart some of my motherly wisdom to her. It’s kind of working, but again, she is only 8. Tatum, on the other hand, is getting awfully moody, trying to push me away. I guess I should have expected this once puberty started. She buys everything that therapist says, hook, line, and sinker. I try to help her navigate friends and boys, but she literally does the opposite of what I say. Piece of work, that one. Cole is next. I thought teenage boys would be a lot harder than they are. Cole is easy. He listens. We converse. He even told me about his girlfriend and, oh, how I tried not to show my true emotions. I can’t hamper this back-and-forth relationship we have. I try to talk to Jay the most, but he just shuts me out with those stupid sleep aids. Cheryl told me that the world really changed for ghosts when those became popular. He does make it so difficult. But I have gotten through to him a little here and there. I mean, do you think he would have spent Christmas with my parents if it wasn’t for my nagging all night long? Next time, I need to convince him to have them here though. It was a lonely Christmas for me, being trapped in an empty house with Cheryl and her stories. No one cares what you baked for Christmas in 1967.

Once I finish visiting everyone, I spend a little time with Cheryl. I mean, I need a friend even though she is annoying. And just before morning, I visit everyone one last brief time. Make sure they wake up thinking about me. Genius idea on my part.

And this new normal has been working great for everyone. That is, until just recently.

It all started about a month ago. I woke up early, to get some Jonah time in, but then he wanted to play with Reilly which made it difficult for me to intercept. I brushed it off thinking it was just a phase and got ready for dinner. I went to sit in my regular seat at the dinner table, and would you believe that blondie girlfriend of Cole’s came over and sat in my spot. No one flinched, except me who ended up standing the whole time. During all of dinner, I wasn’t even mentioned once. Not the therapy, not how my food is better, nothing. All they did was make small talk with blondie. Girl, I don’t care that you volunteer at the animal shelter, you’re in my seat! After the dinner fiasco, I brushed off the helpful reminders to clean up and followed Cole and blondie to his bedroom. What was his father thinking, allowing them to study in his room?! Maybe I need to start including these types of reminders in his dreams. Thankfully, I was there to keep an eye on things. I literally stood over them as they cracked open their history books. I bet Cole felt me boring a hole in his head. That would explain the lack of physical contact between those two. Blondie finally left, and I had my family back to myself.

I went back into the kitchen expecting to find chaos, but I was taken aback by the clean dishes and the dryer running. Hmm, maybe all my haunting reminders have worked their magic.

Bedtime came and I began my nightly ritual, but Jonah’s visit disturbed me the most.

“Mommy, where were you today?’

I was left speechless. Of course, I was here.

“I was playing with you and Reilly. Don’t you remember?’

“No, Mommy, you weren’t there. I looked and looked an couldn’t find you.”

I didn’t know pain was something that afflicted ghosts as well, but there I was feeling sucker punched. I said a quick “I love you” and left. I needed a minute.

I found Cheryl visiting Reilly in her dreams.

“Cheryl, get out of her head! How many times have I told you that these are my children?”

“Relax, Hannah, she won’t remember. I just miss her. Why are you not with Jonah anyways?”

“He didn’t see me today. Or that’s what he said. Why would he say that? He is still young, right?”

“Oh dear, let’s go talk somewhere.” Cheryl then led me to the living room sofa where we cozied up under the blankets. “How old is Jonah now?”

“He’s only 4. Still a little guy. What is going on? It’s too early.”

“It’s not really too early. He is almost 5.”

“It’s like I’m losing him again. I can’t.”

Cheryl wrapped her ethereal self around me and let me cry, something I had staved off for a few months now.

“You still have the dreams, and he can’t forget you. You are his mother.”

I cried and cried, thinking about how Jonah will have to grow up without a mother basically his whole life. I was able to dry my tears just in time for one round of visits before dawn.

The next day seemed to be more of the same. Jonah playing with Reilly. Dinner with another friend of Tatum’s present, in my seat. Cleaning done without my prompting. It went on like this for a whole month. No one-on-one time with my little guy; someone in my seat more often than not; and cleaning up without my haunting reminders. Were they forgetting me? Umm, I was a pretty big part of their lives. For goodness’s sake, I gave them life. Well, except Jay, but I gave his life meaning and that’s what counts.

I was prepared for all this nonsense again today. I think I am even doing a good job resigning myself to the fact that I can only talk to Jonah at night, like the rest of them. And you know what, it’s good for them to not dwell on death. Tatum has been wearing more colors recently and laying off the eyeliner. This is for the best. They need to move on. But then what do I see? Hot dogs again for dinner. Oh, Jay, he is still a mess.

Then the microwave dings. And do you know what he pulled out? A steaming bag of broccoli. I almost fell over if that was a thing that ghosts could do. He made broccoli, something nutritious. What was going on? His mother wasn’t even over. This was totally unprovoked. I needed a minute and fled to the girl’s room, but that Cheryl followed me anyways.

“What is the matter with you today?” Cheryl said as she sat on Reilly’s bed.

“Broccoli. He made broccoli,” I managed through sobs.

“That’s good. I’ve been hoping he would add some vegetables to that dinner of his. Why are you upset about that?”

“No one needs me. I’m their mother! They should need me!” Anger and grief coursed through me.

“They have to move on. You know that.”

“I don’t want them to.”

“Yes, you do. That’s why you tell them those things at night. I know you tell them that you are proud of them. You tell them to keep living. You convinced Cole to try out for basketball when he was scared. You gave him the courage to ask that sweet girl out. You tell Tatum every night how beautiful she is. You reassured her that she didn’t need to hide. You gave her the courage to be herself. You tell Reilly to keep playing even when she didn’t want to. You fostered that relationship between her and Jonah, one that won’t leave them their whole lives. And Jonah, you have given him all the love a mother could give in her lifetime in just a few short years. You helped Jay become a father we all wished we could have had. You have left a part of yourself with them that will help guide them throughout the rest of their lives.”

The waterworks began anew, but they came from a mix of emotions. Grief, of course, but also pride and just a hint of fulfillment.

Then the wildest thing happened. Right beside Cheryl, my grandmother appeared. The one who read bedtime stories and took walks around the neighborhood with me. The one who I missed so much when she died. Why was she here? Did she learn how to travel as a ghost? Cheryl really let me down if that was a thing. But why hadn’t I seen her earlier? I died over a year ago.

She then spoke in her voice that brought back the smell of cookies and cuddling under the blankets on her scratchy sofa, making me want to be lost in one of her hugs just once more.

“Hannah, baby, it’s time.”