The Conversation
So I noticed a friendly acquaintance of mine having a difficult time with the passing of their loved one. I understood it all too well. They said they still talked to their loved one as if they were still alive - almost like admitting to doing something crazy. When I read what they had posted about their loved one and talking to them, I felt a compulsion to go through my phone, particularly my notes app as that thing pretty much has everything I’ve typed since 2020. I’m sure the government has it bugged and saw some of my “plans.” Joke’s on them. I gave those up - much too sophomoric.
Anyhoo, I came across the segment after Kristopher died and found the following piece I wrote. Now, this is from before I discovered the more spiritual side of life and learned that, no, I am not crazy when I can hear his voice or feel his touch. I’m publishing this not just for my friend, but for anyone who has found themselves having conversations with passed loved ones and wonder if they’ve lost their grip on reality. You aren’t crazy. Our loved ones do visit us and just sitting with their energy, despite how heartbreakingly sad it makes you feel, is part of the grief journey. Sometimes the journey looks like tears - the kind that just makes your nose run and you’re a snotty mess and look like shit. Sometimes the journey looks like laughter - the kind where you sound like a barking seal and can’t breathe. And sometimes, it’s having a conversation with no one else in the room.
Here’s what I wrote four years ago shortly after the second year of him being gone.
July 14, 2022
Kristopher was my best friend. He was the one I went to whenever I had a quandary I couldn’t solve myself; the one I vented to about the irritations from others - even if he was the one who irritated me. It happened so often during our 12 year relationship that sometimes I would go to him and literally have the conversation all by myself because I knew what he would say and do. I would ask the questions he would ask, then answer them as if he had asked them; and I would ask a question, then answer it how he would answer it. The last time this happened, Kristopher just looked at me and shook his head chuckling, “It’s like watching a one-person play with you sometimes. Did I need to be in this conversation?”
Well, I still “talk” to him when things bug me. And it’s still a “one-person play” - though, it kinda has to be now. I present to you, The Quandary, a conversation between a widow and her husband’s ghost about a month ago:
Me: It’s been two years…
Kris: Why are you crying?
Me: I’m crying because I miss you! A lot of shit’s been going on and I have a lot on my mind…
Kris: Are you okay? What’s wrong?
Me: I was doing okay, then it hit me what day it was. I’m so sorry! It slipped my mind.
Kris: ?
Me: Why did it slip my mind? Have you seen what’s going on in the world lately? Don’t you have like, I don’t know, front row seats to this shitshow?
Kris (chuckling): Well yes, yes I do.
Me: Then you know what’s going one! See what happens when you die? The entire world goes to shit!
Kris gently: It was already there sweetheart.
Me (ramping up the tears): I know it was already there, but I at least had you!
Kris: Oh, don’t cry…
Me: I can’t help that I’m crying! Not only do I miss you, but other guys keep hitting on me, and I don’t like it!!! Like, what the hell? My husband has only been in the ground for two years - I have his frigging right leg hanging next to my bed for Christ’s sake! Who would want to get tangled up in THAT kind of crazy?!? I’ll tell you who - guys in their sixties, that’s who! …STOP LAUGHING! This isn’t funny! Like, I know I’m gray, but the wrinkles aren’t that bad! Geez, I tell one I have a 25 year old kid and he asks me how old I am. When I told him 46, he damn near had a heart attack! Will you stop laughing?!?
Kris (chuckling still, the ass): So, you’re ready to saddle up again, huh?
Me: No, I’m not ready to get back in the saddle! Don’t you remember how long it took for you to “saddle me up?”
Kris: That thing wasn’t designed to hold that much weight.
Me: OH FOR… I’m talking about BEFORE the straps! Before we started dating? And for the record, you should have read the instructions. I’m just saying…
Kris (snickering): How do you know they’re hitting on you?
Me (confused): How do I know they’re hit…Oh…You’re a dick. Stop laughing! I asked Steph and…would you PLEASE stop laughing at me?!?
Kris: You asked other people?!?
Me: Well, yeah. I asked other people. I don’t speak the “code” the rest of you do.
Kris: It’s not code, sweetheart…
Me (getting irate. At a ghost.): IT IS TOO CODE! What’s wrong with saying, “Hey, how about we get dinner some time next week?” Or, “I find you interesting. I’d like to get to know you. Are you free Saturday night?”
Kris: You aren’t free Saturday nights.
Me: I know I work Saturday nights; you’re missing the point!
Kristopher (snickering more, and pissing me off more): …
Me: I swear to God Kristopher, I will use a Ouija board to open a portal, so help me!
Kris: You don’t own a Ouija board. They scare you.
Me: DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT! …I don’t remember what we were talking about…
Kris (snickers turning into laughter)…
Me: Oh, yeah…Stop. Laughing.
Kris: (laughing so hard if he were alive he wouldn’t be able to breath): I can’t help it! This is fucking hilarious!
Me: NO! It’s not funny! This is a crisis for me! Do you realize there’s someone mowing the yard - whether I agreed or not?!?
Kris: (puzzled) Well, I’d say that’s nice of him…
Me: NO IT’S NOT! Wait…you aren’t angry another man is mowing your yard?
Kris (shrugging his shoulders): Why would I be? I didn’t even like moving the damned thing. I say let him have at it.
Me: …What about your wife?
Kris: I’m confused…you hate mowing the yard as much as I did. Why is him mowing the yard and not you a crisis?
Me (exasperated): …oh my God…You’re as dense dead as you were alive…
Kris (peeved): HEY! I’m not the one who needed three different people to tell me a guy was interested in me. (gently and quietly) What’s this really about, sweetheart?
Me: …he’s interested…
Kris (exasperatedly loud): So let him mow the yard!
Me (starting to cry): KRIS!
Kris (gently, loving): Sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Don’t cry honey, just tell me.
Me: You know how I feel about men doing me favors. Since I didn’t have any money on me, I offered to buy him some beer…
Kris: Well, that’s nice, but how did you kn…
Me: He’s bought beer before
Kris: Okay.
Me: When I said I’d bring it by the next day for him, he said no. I could bring it if I had dinner with him.
Kris (with budding realization): Oh…
Me: …and I said I was busy and he said we’d figure it out…
Kris (fully realizing): Ohhh….
Me: He mowed again and the other day, when I got home, he was driving by and…what am I going to do?!? You’re laughing again…
Kris (chuckling): Oh sweetheart, I love you. But for the smartest woman I knew, you sure are dumb.
Me (annoyed): …not helping…
Kris: Sweetheart, have dinner with him.
Me: I CAN’T! I don’t even know his NAME!
Kris (warmly): …only you, my love…
Me (going from annoyed to irritated): Kristopher, I’m warning you…
Kris: Sweetheart, you knew this was going to happen. Hell, they were hitting on you even before I died, remember? What did I say when you told me? Give me six months after I died…
Me: I didn’t agree to that! I said no more after you. You were the last…
Kris: You said that when we were dating, and it was if we broke up; neither of us thought I was going to die so soon. I don’t hold you to that promise. I said six months because I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life lonely.
Me: …I’m not lonely. I have family, friends…
Kris: Not the kind of lonely I was talking about sweetheart.
Me: …Kris, I just…I worked really hard at being a better person than I was when you first met me. I was a horrible friend; telling you should and shouldn’t spend your money on. I was a worse wife; constantly bossing you around and being a total bitch until I realized I was the one that needed to change, not you. And I worked at it - having the stroke was a blessing because it pretty much kept that part of me locked up. I wanted to be a better person for YOU! Why should someone else benefit from that? I did it for you because I love you…And then God took you!
Kris: Maybe because my job was done…AH! Let me finish. Sweetheart, you’ve always said we were meant to be together. You told me the story a thousand times: how you moved to North Carolina when you were a kid and it took over a month to get there and settled; but you guys moved and got settled in Kansas in under 48 hours. You were meant to be here. Cindy - your boss - interviewed me for the overnight position. You being a single mom and I didn’t want biological kids. You taking the receiving job and how we met. You said it was all too easy.
Me muttering: Well, it wasn’t easy…
Kris: You know what I mean. You told people I taught you patience because I had patience for you. You told people I taught you forgiveness because I forgave you - even though you thought I shouldn’t have…
Me: I should never have picked my job over you without talking to you. I’m still waiting for you to get even with me.
Kris: I’m not going to, so don’t blame me if the picture frames fall off of the wall - you could never find a stud.
Me: …I found you didn’t I?
Kris grinning: Yes, yes you did. My point is, maybe there’s someone out there who needs your patience, your forgiveness, so they can become a better person.
Me (plaintively): Is that why it’s guys in their sixties? So they can get into heaven?
Kris (chuckles): Could be.
Me: It feels like I’m cheating on you; like I’m spitting on your memory.
Kris: You’re not. I’m surprised you lasted this long!
Me: …Don’t be an ass…
Kris: I’m serious! I was shocked you took so long to take off the rings. What had to happen? You itching your nose completely off before you got the hint?
Me: …NO! … It took an old guy telling me about life needing to be experienced. But I wanted to experience it with you!
Kris: And we did! Maybe not in the way everyone else does…
Me: It’s because you’re weird and I’m strange…
Kris: …we did it OUR way. And now you can do what you want.
Me: But I don’t know what I want.
Kris: Uhm, that’s the whole point of dating.
Me: You know what I mean! With you it was easy. Now, I don’t know…
Kris: Are you wanting to get married again?
Me: GOD! NO!
Kris: Then what’s the big deal?
Me: What if that’s what he wants? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to waste his time for something I probably will never do again.
Kris: That’s one of the reasons why I love you. Because even though you were a total battleax, you didn’t like hurting people. And you have no filter. You let it all come out.
Me: …I’m an idiot…
Kris: No, you’re honest. Remember what you told me? You were looking for a father for your son and someone you could stand to be around.
Me: Well, I didn’t say it that way…
Kris: Well, that’s how I took it, but that’s not the point. Just be honest…oh, honey! Don’t cry!
Me (tears rolling down my face and snot running out of my nose): I just miss you so damned much!
Kris (sadly): I know.
Me: I just… I want what we had, our friendship. Someone I can drop the F bomb with…
Kris: You do love your F bombs. I especially like your “fuck me” bomb
Me: I use that one when I can’t remember something.
Kris: You didn’t when I was alive…
And that was when the giggle fits I had sort of allowed him to fade away for the night. My point in sharing this, as I stated earlier, isn’t just for my friend, but for anyone dealing with grief. You may think you’re going crazy. You’re not. Maybe it’s memory; maybe it’s how our mind wraps around the fact our love for them has no physical place to land and it needed to go somewhere. I don’t know for certain. But I choose to believe energy doesn’t “die.” It merely goes to something else. Kristopher still visits me, usually in times of extreme distress (when I’m over-stimulated and under-caffeinated) just to let me know he’s around. We don’t talk as much as we used to in the beginning, but every once in awhile, our song will come over on the Spotify and I’ll feel his pinkie finger brushing up against mine as a reminder to ground. He was my anchor while he was alive, and when I can’t anchor myself, he’s still there holding my hand - mainly to keep me from throttling someone. Probably because now, he can’t help me bury the body.
