by River Daniel (Excerpt from the book by the same title)
My son, Andy, age 50, ended his life on earth six years ago, but his mind is alive on the other side. I know this as surely as if he had called or texted me. I have heard from him through dreams and direct contact. Now most of the time I am happy, joyous and free. But getting to this point was rough.
The week from hell began on Monday with the last conversation I would ever have with Andy. Something prompted me to leave my second husband Bill at the breakfast table, go into my office, and telephone him.
“It’s your nickel. Go ahead.”
Despite his breezy words, I detected weariness in his voice.
Just checking in. Are you working this week?
“Yeah. I’m headed out the door now. Going to Tampa to paint.”
Okay. Just checking on you. I won’t hold you up. Nothing new here.
He said his usual, “Luv you, Bye,” and hung up.
I told Bill he sounded depressed.
“And he’s down there all alone,” Bill said.
Tuesday evening I attended my Toastmasters meeting. I had not yet been informed my son lay dead upon the ground. He would not be found until Wednesday.