I have heard stories like this before.
A woman is on her deathbed. She begins to see things that are not there. Or at least, things that no one else can see. People on the ceiling. In the corners of the room.
People from her past.
The woman’s sisters are in the room. So are friends whose funerals she attended years prior. When she was sick, but still fighting.
Her daughter shakes her head. Tells her, I am sorry mom, but they just aren’t here.
She disagrees. And dies the next day.
I hope she is right.
Because it’s been a long time since someone said they saw Dottie DelGizzi walk into a room. And I like to think she is still calling on old friends. Laughing her big laugh. Browsing for things she will never buy. Just looking at what the world has to offer.
Sometimes I took notes when we were on the phone. Usually just a sentence or two after she said something I felt was important or seemed especially poignant at the time. I found one the other day when pulling out a reminder about where my car was parked at the airport.
“Sometimes you have intuition and only you know how something is.”
I think she would have believed Lorraine.