Awkward Stranger; or, Voicemail In Heaven

Awkward Stranger; or, Voicemail In Heaven
by Rob Cottignies

I was busy going through my mother’s former belongings. Insurance papers, account statements, pictures- I can't remember what else. Members of my family were helping, making phone calls, and trying to get past her mysterious electronic passwords. Some jewelry was unaccounted-for. Plus, you know, grieving.

Amid all this, a car pulled into my driveway. I assumed it was somebody I'd let get away with being so, but it was some woman I didn’t recognize. She said she had known my mom since elementary school and was a close friend. Odd how I'd never heard her name.

After her generic kind words, I invited this woman and her blank face inside. She had brought nothing. I wanted nothing but had I felt the urge to drop in on a stranger unannounced at a time like this, I would have at least offered a nice bottle of beer.

Was she so stricken with grief that she had a complete loss for words? I'd find out later when looking through my mom's yearbook that she had apparently always been zombie-faced.

So there she stood, this stranger offering nothing. No soothing words, no charming stories, no smiles, no freakin' bottle of beer. Nothing but an expressionless stare. Being considerate for no reason, I invited her to sit.

So there she sat, this stranger offering nothing.

She declined water but accepted a sandwich. I went into the kitchen to avoid scratching my own face apart because of the overwhelmingly uncomfortable silence. I'll never know what she did for those few minutes, but my guess is it involved eating a sandwich and staring into the void of the hard-wood floor.

After about four-thousand years but maybe twenty minutes of actual time, she left. Thanks for the thought? Nah, there was no thought. There was nothing. But it was over. Whether or not she realized her unwelcome had been exhausted, she was gone and I was mildly relieved.

…

Fast-forward two weeks and a voice message had been left on my house line. It was for my mother, though the caller clearly knew she was gone. Crying, the voice said how much she missed her and she hoped the message would reach her in Heaven.

As if I couldn’t guess, the caller-ID told me it was zombie-face. My immediate reaction was the rage I didn't have the capacity to show two weeks prior. I screamed, stomped, smacked the wall. The message was just about the last thing I wanted to hear.

And that's exactly the point- I heard the message. No one else and certainly not my mom. Does Heaven get voicemail!? Nope, it was just me. And I was pissed. If this woman believed that my mom could hear her in the afterlife, why did she feel the need to leave her a voice message??? Why did she not, say, look at the sky and speak her thoughts? I am not questioning her beliefs but calling out her complete lack of common sense and courtesy. First the pointless surprise awkward visit and then a voicemail to Heaven? I know people grieve in different ways but come on.

Unfortunately, this is where the story ends and I hope there is no follow-up or you just might hear about it on the news. This creature should get the help she's probably needed for a very long time.

To answer a potential alternative thought, she was not calling to hear my mom's voice on the outgoing message because it wasn't set up that way. If this half-wit was such good friends with her, she would've known that. I never pray but I definitely threw a hope out there that if she calls again, I'll be right next to the phone.