I can think of a few people who’ve died, who I’d like to be able to call and hear their real live voice on the other end. I wish it was as simple as wanting it badly enough. Just pick up the phone, ask an operator to transfer me to wherever they are right now, hear their voice on the other end and pick up where we left off. I’d say my stuff and they’d say their stuff and it would be really real and surreal and unreal…because they are alive. They never died. It was just a simple misunderstanding.
That never happens, right?
On my dogwalk this morning, I saw my neighbor Marie, who remembers Thelma, and she could see that I was upset, retelling the story of how I found out Thelma was gone, so she tried to make me feel better by suggesting that maybe Thelma had been transferred to a different facility.
My friend Sheri told me not to contact Thelma’s son to find out when she died because it had been so long since I’d checked in on Thelma. She said to look it up in the obituaries and spare the family the awkward call.
When I googled the obits and found no results, I suddenly had hope that maybe she is still alive. Maybe she had been transferred. I could only guess what sort of condition she would be in. She’s got to be 94 by now. Maybe she was transferred because she is in a coma, or she had a stroke, and she won’t be able to talk but I can still go see her? Maybe she’s not in a coma but she doesn’t remember who I am?
I called the nursing home where Thelma went to first, the one with the disconnected number on the phone leading to Thelma’s room. They told me the names of two nursing homes where I might find her. She wasn’t at the first one, but when I called the second one and asked if they could transfer me to her room, they didn’t hesitate.
Unbelievable.
The phone rang and a young woman answered. She said, “She’s in the restroom. Can you wait a minute?”
“Oh, I can wait!” I said. There was no way I was going to hang up and call back in case this was all a dream. I still couldn’t believe there was someone on the other end who seemed to know this Thelma person. She didn’t say “Thelma Who?” I just needed to find out if it was the right Thelma. What if it wasn’t?
Finally, I hear a beep in my ear, where the hand of someone unaccustomed to push-button phones had accidently pushed a button while picking up the phone, and then a familiar “Hello?”
“THELMA!!!!”
“Yea?”
“It’s Amy!”
“Oh, yea, how are you, Amy?” She didn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, my God, Thelma, I thought I lost you! I called your old number and it was disconnected and I sat on the couch and cried.”
“Oh, no.”
“You’re there!”
“You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
She’s not only still alive. She’s still her witty self. I’m going to see her tomorrow at 1:00.
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