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We've Heard You

 "Norm!" I shouted a whisper. Looking up at our bathroom ceiling on December 25th 2020 at 1:30 in the morning. "You're kidding me." I continued the whisper as not to awaken our teenaged daughters. I'd just finished baking, wrapping gifts and filling their Christmas stockings.

Norm was dead and I was wiped. I grabbed the bathroom garbage pail and put in under where our bathroom ceiling leaked, as the unrelenting rain poured for hours from Christmas Eve to now early Christmas morning.

Exacerbated,  I sighed. I whispered again, "Norm! Its not funny. You just stop this now!"
I closed the bathroom door and thought. 'You know God. You two up there just got to work together for me.' 

I prayed quietly as I exited the bathroom, closing the door so the bathroom light wouldn't disrupt our youngest's sleep. I tip-toed down two sets of stairs and got to our laundry room where the big basket of rags sat. I grabbed another bucket, as I whispered.  "Well God, I guess this is going to be a long night for Mrs. Klaus and the now deceased Hannakuh Man. Oh well. Not good."

I tip-toed back up the stairs. Neither child stirred. I crept into the bathroom and as I had something changed. I looked down as I placed the second bucket near where I thought I saw another possible drip area was happening. I dropped the towels and stared at the ceiling, awaiting a catastrophe. It was quiet, except for the pouring rain outside. The drip had halted completely. I whispered,  "Don't mess with me you guys. This better be for real." I paused, "Good God, am I going to get any rest tonight? I want the kids to be surprised and happy. Okay? You heard me." I demanded negating a prayer for forgiveness. 

"If you haven't seen the recent silliness. I'll tell you later. And Thanks Norm."
After that I thought, 'Who the hec would think that was normal?'

Fast forward to... Recently, I visited a client of mine to see how she was doing. I knew she was alone. Although she'd always seemed to have a ton of friends. She said to me one day, "Jody, people die." She was overwhelmed as we stood on her stoop, tears welled in her eyes. I hugged her and held her tight. I whispered,  "I'm here for you too"

Also, she'd just lost her mother 5 months prior and now her husband would be gone within days and I knew so.
I've touched enough death and dying. You feel for others. You don't get used to it. 'It'? 'It' is watching other's suffer a loss. She lost 3 family members whom she'd dealt with nearly daily. She'd lost them in a matter of about a year.

So last week I visited her. I arrived unannounced.  I usually go with my heart. It was perfect timing. I rang her doorbell and lightly knocked on her door a couple times, I waited. Then I texted her. She arrived all smiles seeing me, "Jody!" We hugged.

We sat on her stoop outside and chatted for an hour or so.  She asked, "You ever talk to Norm? Because I talk to my husband. You know."

I nodded. "Yeah." I giggled. We smiled and laughed. I added, "You know your Mom talked to your Dad after he'd passed. She'd tell me that often."---Jody-Lynn Reicher


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