Come and Join Me
It is the day after we buried my father. I was overcome with guilt. Although
I knew it couldn't have stopped it, I knew that it contributed to his death. If only I
hadn't forgotten to turn off the oven. I was to blame for his death and he knew it.
I haven't slept for days but tonight, I hoped since he was at rest, I would get
some. I sank my head into the pillow and listened to the wind rustling through the
trees. My heavy eyelids were closing when I heard a noise, a noise that sounded
like someone was calling my name. My eyes opened blearily and I knew that what I
heard next wasn't the wind. There was someone calling me.
“Jamie, come join me, I'm lonely. Come outside, I am just below your window.” Even
though I thought I would never hear that voice again, I knew it was my father. I
was a little freaked out but I ignored it and went back to sleep.
The next night, just as I was falling asleep, I heard him again, “Jamie, come join
me, I'm lonely. I'm waiting just outside the front door.” I was more than freaked
but I stayed in bed. This continued for days.
“Jamie, I am at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Jamie, I am in the hallway.”
“I am right outside the bedroom”
Then, on the seventh night, it was the clearest I've ever heard my father's voice
saying, “Jamie, I am standing right by your bed.”
The next morning Jamie's mother came into her room to find nothing but a puddle of
blood where Jamie had been.