I’m talking to Jody all the time. Here are some things she’s said to me over the past few days:
I’m right in front of you, Bruce.
I love you too, Bruce. I wish I could shower you with kisses.
I’m okay, husband. I’m worried about you.
Bruce, don’t censor what you’re saying to me. I’m right here with you. I love you. Let it all come out. I’ll listen. We’ll talk.
I am here, dear one. I’ll always be here.
Thank you for selecting such fine songs for my service. They’re among my favourites. You’ve always showed me your true colours, Bruce.
Gray eyes. I haven’t called you that in a long time.
I wish I could touch you, Bruce.
Read to me, Bruce … from the story. May I read to you for the rest of my life? Please do. I love the stories.
For months now, I’ve read aloud to Jody, mostly Stephen King. She’s loved it and so have I. It’s so much fun to create different voices for each character. It was last night that Jody asked me to read to her again. So I cradled The Waste Lands, the third book of King’s opus The Dark Tower, and picked up where my lovely wife and I had left off more than a week ago.
Only for a second did I think I was strange, reading out loud while sitting “alone” in our family room. Only for a second do I question my sanity as the words between us flow out of me and onto the pad of paper. Only for a second will I settle for a life without mystery and grace.
And tonight’s chapter was pretty cool too.