Conversations with the Great Beyond
“Mork calling Orson. Come in, Orson”
“Mork calling Orson. Come in, Orson”
“Hello Mum!”.
“Oh hello Yvonne, Vivienne, Elaine, I mean, Stephen. How are you?”.
“I’m ok and reassured you still name me last in our conversations and behind my three sisters. Always tickles me when you do this!”
“Force of habit now I’m afraid. I hope you’re staying inside during this heatwave, son”.
“Don’t be silly Mum! I’ve been gambolling along a canal again today. Three in fact, and five pubs too”.
“You are daft aren’t you? Five pubs? I thought you didn’t drink!”.
“Only on special occasions Mum, you know that. And I didn’t partake of a drink in any of them. Just there to document them, take some lovely pictures of them beside the canal. I even went back to the place we all spent Christmas together nearly twenty years ago. I’ll never forget your face of embarrassment as your grandson screamed the roof off the pub on Christmas Day!”.
“I don’t remember that, but I do remember my grandson. Give him a kiss from me please”.
“I always do Mum. I always do”.
“What is it with you and these canals? I don’t understand it myself”.
“Oh you know me Mum. Once I get a project in my head I’m full on until the boat sinks. Chester was fantastic on Saturday. I even managed to snag a good freebie spot to watch a horserace at the local track and I thought of how Dad would’ve LOVED this spot all those years ago. I miss talking with you about him and how much you adored him.
“He was my one and only, Stephen. My one and only”.
“I know. I really know. Listen, this’ll make you laugh. I told Andy the stolen chip story about how you two met again yesterday. Probably for about the 1,000th time! He still laughed though. Spoiled your grandson big time with a big time barbecue and as much fuss as he could bare! I still smile when I see in my mind’s eye how much he TOWERED over his wee little Grandma!”.
“Little Granny Shortarse!”.
“Did you say something Mum? I couldn’t quite hear you. Are you there?”.
“Remember all those conversations of ours that seemed to “drop out” mid-way as I could hear you, you could hear me, but we couldn’t hear each other? I can still picture you in my mind’s eye tutting and cussing and saying “You need to get a bloody new phone Stephen!”. Oh how we laughed! Ostensibly talking to ourselves before abracadabra, we were connected again. Do you remember those interminably long conversations and how we laughed about them?
“Mum?”
“Alas, I figured this would be another of those one way conversations”.
“I just wish you’d stop being so obstinate and give me a call!
“I miss hearing your voice so much”.
“I guess this is the part where we used to journey through the role call of the family and how they all are, so you’ll be unsurprised to hear your sister misses you dearly, Elaine and Yvonne remain, at the time of writing, resolutely still Elaine and Yvonne, with your youngest daughter refusing to visit the cinema to see a film about her hero, waiting instead for the soulless pleasure of a plastic DVD showing at home. Some people never change Mum, and your “Good Kid” of a daughter is not a lady for turning”.
“It’s all rather quiet on the rest of the family front. Your football team are utterly, utterly dreadful whilst mine are flying as high as the birds in the sky. We can but hope that this current status quo remains for some time to come and I miss the playful banter that would have guaranteed me a snarling and snorting laugh from you for that previous sentence. I’m writing a lot, occupying my mind with a variety of flimsy and silly projects and spending as much growing up time with that beautiful grandson of yours”.
“I’ve been talking about you a lot recently with two angelic listening strangers and any more information from me would only cause you to worry. There’s no need. I’m ok, and yes, I’m ok in that sense that only a Mother feels, or at least, the ok my Mum could hear and feel for herself. I’ve been looking back through old photos, past couple of decades or so, and I miss that smiling old misunderstood lady. Always the cameraman, there aren’t any of us together aside from a treasured memory and an afternoon I’m glad I swallowed my competitive pride and allowed you to beat me at cards”.
“It’s the silly memories isn’t it?. You asking, for the umpteenth time, “What’s Trumps Stephen?” before tutting at your hand, throwing your eyes skyward before declaring “Well you’ve won this game then, haven’t you?”. Or imploring me to deal the cards, to stop shuffling the pack, to stop “messing around” and deal you the worst of all possible hands that you’d turn into winners with a zest and a zeal I miss so much”.
“I guess it’s time to say goodbye now, and I know that in joke wouldn’t have been lost on you. None shall sleep Mum”.
“None shall sleep”.
“I love you”.
