Reaching for the Phone

Celebrating Christmas without loved ones who have passed on is no easy task. This year marks the first without my father. I miss him terribly, often thinking of tidbits of news I would like to share with him. I remember having a conversation with my “second mother,” Virginia Grubbs, on this topic.
“Oh, you don’t know how many times I reached for the phone to call my mother after she passed away,” she said. I found comfort in that when my hand was inches from the phone after my mother passed away. I had thought of a recipe I needed and I actually walk toward the phone to call her. I shared this with my sister-in-law after her mother’s death. She is several years younger than me and gave me her, “Yeah, but you are old and senile” look. Later, she admitted I was right. She, too, had reached for the phone to call her mother. Yesterday, as I drove along in my Jeep, I found myself missing Daddy in a wave that washed over me without warning. There were some family updates I wanted to tell him, so I decided to talk to him anyway.
“Lance's hens laid their first egg, Daddy, and Kevin said he really likes your old car. He drove for a week on $15! You always said it got good gas mileage, but were afraid to brag. Blaine and I went out and cut down a real cedar tree this year. It made me think of Christmases on the farm when I was growing up. I miss you and Mom. I love you.”
Somehow, I felt better sharing that with him. No, I didn’t actually reach for the phone, but I would like to think he heard me anyway.