I bought a new phone recently as the old one was acting odd / unpredictable and I use it for my business. Part of the process with a new phone is importing over the old stuff.
I did not realize it, but the old phone had tons of old voicemails that did not show up on the voicemails screen. I just went to delete a few voicemails from today as I had already spoken to the person in real time. As I was scrolling through, I noticed one, then four, then FOURTEEN voicemails from Dawn. One dating back as far as May 2015.
I have been so wanting to hear her voice. I have been so wanting to have 1 second of illusion that she is here. I was tentative, but I listened to one voicemail. It her telling me, “I’m done, come get me.” I could hear the crackle of fluid in her lungs. I am not sure the specifics, but it was certainly bittersweet hearing the pain in her voice, but also amazing just hearing her voice.
The next one was a, “nothing special” voicemail. One of those “call me back. I am on the way home.” My whole face lit up, she sounded vibrant and healthy. I remember taking those so for granted and it took me to a happy place. A place where in half an hour we would be breathing the same air.
The third one, it was run of the mill for my loving wife, but it brought me immediately to tears. She told me how she had been thinking about me for the last hour and how in 10 minutes she was going to be on her way home. How she was very much envisioning kissing me as soon as she walked through the door. How for some reason today, she couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky she is and how much she loves me. She finished by saying, “I miss you and plan to show you how much when I get home.”
Just typing that, hear it in her voice and I am crying all over again.
I couldn’t listen to anymore. But, they are there. Such a sweet treasure and such stabbing pain all wrapped up in the most lovely voice I have ever heard.
Dawn, I am not in control of when I come home. The flights are messed up and what I can see of the schedule is written in Chinese. I know you will patiently wait and work on our 1000 acre property. As I am not in control of when, know that I am doing my best to catch the same flight as you.
Know that I miss you and plan to show you how much when I get Home. The accompanying tears will be tears of joy.
***Dawn never liked the house we shared. She always referred to it as the Falcon House or as the house, but never as home. We both agreed, early on in the fight against cancer, that wherever we were together, was home. When we shared a hospital room, a camper while hunting, a car while driving around the country or the bedroom on Falcon; that was home. It was the fact that we were sharing it that made it home. We felt this very deeply. When she went on some of her cancer sponsored trips, I did not feel at home in my own house. When I would go hunting and her job wouldn’t let her join me, she told me the bedroom felt like a strange hotel room. It certainly wasn’t home. The HOME part of the house was missing. I very much miss feeling, being HOME.