A Letter to George

Dear George,

At work today I told the story about how your ex got tired of you complaining about getting the same lunch every day. So the next day there was a container of fried ants in your lunch. I know you didn’t eat any, but one of your co-workers did. You would always laugh when you told the story, but I bet you never complained about your lunch again. No wonder you never let me pack you a lunch.

Work is going okay. I know that blessed are the merciful, but it’s tough to have mercy on these people who get on your last nerve. Working with the public really tries my patience. People who don’t know who they want to talk to, or they’re returning a call but don’t know the name of the person who called. Customers think all I have to do is wait on the ones who come up to the counter. NO! I have to answer the phone, direct calls, balance the store tills, all in addition to folks wanting to bring back a half-eaten cake as being stale, or who can’t find something in the clearly marked aisles, or who just want to gripe. Speaking of griping, just like I’m doing. I’m sorry, honey. You’re too good at listening.

I had the dream again. You’re driving around in the country, on roads out in the middle of nowhere. I wonder if that’s what it’s really like. I don’t care much for the word “Heaven” to describe the afterlife. I prefer the word “Beyond” as I think too many sermons have been preached on heaven and hell. I was thinking of that wild ride we took with Kyle and April, on their four wheelers. Talk about being out in the middle of nowhere. Kyle took us down all the dustiest, hilliest, obscure dirt tracks. Then we stopped and got ice cream. It was so hot the ice cream melted and dripped everywhere. We were all eating the ice cream as fast as we could.

I miss sitting with you in church and holding hands. That one guy’s still there, Neil, who gave me the creeps. You have my permission to haunt Neil if you want to. But it was no use complaining when he would come up to me after church and slide his arm around my waist, because he gave a lot of money to the church.

I’ll never forget that Sunday morning he looked me up and down and said, “You sure look like you’re still a teenager.”

You gave me a hug and a kiss, right in front of him. That shut him up for good.

Kyle and April insisted on giving me a cat to keep me company, now that you’re gone. She’s a gorgeous tabby cat, very sweet and gentle. She steals my pillow like I used to steal your chair when you got up to do something. I named her Misty.

I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t visit the cemetery. I can’t. You’re not there. Your spirit is free.

You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. Like your old car breaking down. I wish you had splurged and bought a newer car. I wish you had thought more about yourself and less about everyone else’s problems. Then maybe you wouldn’t have been so tired that you fell asleep at the wheel and had that fatal accident. I’m thankful that no one else was hurt when you crashed.

Speaking of cars, remember Clive bringing you home after that comic book convention, when you had that flat? I saw him driving up our street and thought, “At least George isn’t drunk or in jail, just in the back of a cop car.” And Clive said the passenger side seat belt didn’t work! Like I believe that. He just wanted to be funny and put you in the back of the police car.

He's another friend who doesn’t come around anymore. I guess most people don’t know what to say. Kyle and April still come around, and invite me over. It’s so kind. I don’t feel awkward with them.

Pastor Lauren does know what to say. She spoke so movingly about you at your funeral. Told about how you loved to fish, even though you didn’t like to clean fish. You gave so much caught fish away, because of your generosity. She talked about your volunteer work with high school kids. In addition to being a case manager. You touched so many lives in your too short life.

I remember when we went for walks in the park, how you had to stop and pet every dog you ever saw, after asking permission from the pet parent, of course. I still go to that park we used to go to, where they have the workout equipment. I remember you shaking your head and asking me why they didn’t put the equipment inside a building, where people would be more likely to use it. It didn’t make sense to me either.

Do you watch over me? Are you my guardian angel? I feel you are. Please give me your blessing. I’ve met someone who wants to marry me. It’s been three years now since you’ve been gone. Rob and I have dated for two years. George, no one can ever replace you in my heart. But this man is the only one I’ve ever known who measures up to you. Pastor Lauren introduced us. Rob is a hospice chaplain.

He loves me, I’ll prove it to you. Here’s a poem he wrote for me:

You changed my life from the very first time I pulled you into my arms to hold you and console you.

You with your gentle voice and soft kindness,

your bright eyes and beautiful soul

winning my heart.

My partner, my best friend, my love.

Past pain and loneliness 

fades away

as we fall on the bed laughing.

Reveling in the warmth and joy of having you.

Revealing pleasure and desire when we touch.

Amazing to me that our tastes match so well.

Just the sound of your voice thrills me.

I love him for being so romantic. It’s different from my love for you, but just as real.

Love always,

Deanna