Widows Do This Kind of Thing, I Guess

I spoke to my dead husband Monday of this week, asking him where he is, suggesting he is needed here and now. By me. By certain of his kids. I was not joking, and I'm not joking now.

Of course, he is not here.

But I thought that just the force of his presence, just his influence. That would be powerful, well, especially since he's dead. But you know what I mean.

A word or two, sure. That would be even better.

I didn't punctuate my speech to him the way I'm punctuating this post. No pauses. No afterthoughts. Mostly I just poured out my heart.

And here's the thing. I did not feel stupid in this pleading, did not feel it was useless or hopeless. Does that say something about me? Or something about the true nature of things? I wish I knew.