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Grief: A message on a cell phone
“They cut me loose, come pick me up.”
Hearing the voice of my deceased husband stopped me in my tracks.
Walking up the stairs, cell phone on speaker mode perched on an overflowing basket of laundry, I listened to three messages that were about to expire. Dentist appointment reminder. Delete. An old message from a friend. Delete. And then I heard it as I rounded the corner to the second floor landing, “They cut me loose, come pick me up.”
My husband had died from multiple myeloma cancer two weeks earlier. This message was the last one he left, calling me from the hospital to come pick him up.
The first time I heard that saved message, I steadied myself with one hand on the staircase finial and sat down on the floor, took a deep breath and pressed the button to listen to it again. “They cut me loose, come pick me up.” Cradling the phone against my ear, I closed my eyes and imagined myself holding onto him. I missed him so much.
On that day, I was making plans for his memorial service. He had been cremated and I was going to delay the service for six weeks to give us all time to breathe after a 10-month cancer journey that ended with my husband dying. I wanted to create a memorial service that represented the 60 years of his life before cancer. I wanted a celebration of him.
