Who will call?

A few months ago a man left three voice messages for my sister, Jackie, in less than 24 hours. He said he grew up in the area and was calling to inquire about my Mom. He left his name and Florida number. She was suspicious, but when she shared his name with me, I knew exactly who it was. Mom dated him briefly, as I recall, after her divorce from my biological father. I must have been three or four years old. I reminded my sister, this is the guy who gave us the Velvet and Chrissy dolls.

I returned his call on behalf of my sister. I told him that I remembered he had given Jackie and I dolls for Christmas. He recalled sitting with us on the floor playing with the dolls. He didn’t say what provoked his call, only that he thought about Sharon so often over the years. And he said, “I’ll be honest, I’ve really missed your Mom. I was a damn fool.” Wow, I thought. More than 50 years had passed.

This was a reminder to me that I only know parts of my Mom’s 80 years. And most certainly, she’s had experiences, relationships, and feelings that she’s never shared, and that I, for certain, will now never learn. I have, surely, mistakenly assumed because my Mom spent her entire life in the small town where she grew up, that her life was not too varied or complicated. After all, there were not many ways for her generation to meet people. But regardless, the concept of the human condition suggests that we all have experiences, emotions, and challenges that are common to one another regardless of culture, race or background. This of course, includes both the positive and negative aspects of our existence, such as joy, love, and fulfillment, as well as suffering, pain and mortality.  

I am also reminded that when a person leaves this earth, there are many things that go with them. Few of us have or will have shared all there is to our life with those remaining. And though we may strive to leave a legacy of sorts through our children, our profession, or our heart’s passion, I suppose that legacy is certainly limited specifically to that which we want to be known.

Having lost a partner who I lived with for 16 years, I certainly know what it’s like to be left behind with all the “stuff.” Some of it serves as reminders to what I knew about Tim. And some are simply clues to things I didn’t know causing me to have questions that I will never get the answers to. At least from the source anyway. Wouldn’t it be fascinating if we were all required to document our lives while living and then it would be shared with our loved ones that we leave behind. Part of me likes the idea of this as a classic reflection requirement where we journal our thoughts, experiences and feelings every day. But realistically, now, this sounds like a horrifying sci-fi movie where we are given no choice, and the chip that has been stored in our body during our lifetime is removed at death, downloaded and shared. And this, I’m pretty sure, I want no part of.

I guess it’s up to us to ask the questions that will help us uncover what we want and need to know about our loved ones while they are living. And in turn, they will make choices about what is shared in part or full disclosure, or even what is left entirely unspoken.

We share this life with many people and in significantly greater numbers and ways than Mom’s generation. We make connections that are professional, physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. And, if we are lucky throughout life, we have at least a few relationships with everlasting bonds, perhaps fated, that will not be severed. Of course, we will reserve the very best of ourselves for only a select few.

It’s a normal response to want to hear more, and learn more, from someone who can no longer communicate with us or who has left this earth. So of course, there are things I would like to ask Mom. And, also, this very brief conversation, with the unnamed boyfriend of Sharon, has me wondering, who will call asking about me?