My inbox was empty. I quickly typed him a message that I was thinking of him. He responded immediately. He was up, not feeling well and couldn’t sleep, too. We chatted back and forth a few times, not as easily as you can on instant chat now, but at least I felt close to him.
The next morning, he was supposed to go the Veteran’s Hospital to get the results of his tests. I was busy with little kids and house cleaning. I started calling him around noon. Maybe he decided to do something fun after his appointment. Maybe he had errands he hadn’t told me about.
By late afternoon, my head hammered and my stomach permanently clenched with stress. He knew I was waiting to hear the results. Angry and worried, I called a friend and neighbor to go up to the farm and check on him. Within an hour, I got a call from the friend’s daughter. My brother was dead. He’d never made it through the night or to his appointment.
Our family descended on the farm, shocked and horrified. He was only 49. A police officer stood guard over his body and wouldn’t let us in the room with his body. It appeared my brother had stood up from the computer and then collapsed on the floor. Because he was alone, the police considered it a crime scene.
After much talk and contacting his physician, we finally got the police to leave. The mortuary personnel came to collect his body and then we took care of the animals. Heading back into the house, we began looking around.
What were we looking for?
When my mother died, she left a letter by her bedside table to tell us how she had felt about her life and each of us children. It was very heart-warming. Four of us searched, especially the bedroom, over and over again. We couldn’t find anything he’d written. Disappointed, we finally headed home.
I knew my brother had been ill for some time and had even been surprised by his last words to me in person. I think he knew he wouldn’t live long. Why didn’t he write something? He knew our mother’s letter meant so much to us. I tried to push the thought from my mind. It is what it is.
Still, when we went over to the house again, I found myself searching for something he wrote to us. Several days passed without finding anything. Many decisions had to be made, especially about the animals and the farm. A letter from him was forgotten.
Then about a week later, I was walking through the bedroom and spotted a red notebook in the headboard of his bed. RED? SERIOUSLY? We had all searched by his bed multiple times. I opened it and in my brother’s handwriting he had written the start of a message to us. It hadn’t been completed, but it was a note to us, expressing his feelings. I was astounded and still am after all these years!
We knew it hadn’t been there when we searched. How did it get there? By who? We were the only ones with keys to the house. We tried to pass it off as we were all too upset at his death to notice it before. Yeah, I don't think so.
What do you think?
Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs!
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com
Dog Copyright: innocent / 123RF Stock Photo
P.S. If you missed my popular Halloween story, you can read it here: A True Halloween Tale