What Would You Say, To A Ghost?

by Lori Dwyer on September 22, 2011 · 14 comments

After I posted Ghosts, I had a few comments asking me… if I did get to see my husband again, what would I say to him?

The immediate response my head gives is “Nothing at all.”

I suppose it’s all about time. How much time would I have, if I saw him again? An hour, half an hour? A minute, day? Because there are so many things I’d like to say to him, so many things I’d like to ask… I guess I’d have to have my priorities.

Given an hour with him…. I’d ask all those things I want to know so badly. Why? What were you thinking? Did you plan this, try it before? Did you really think it would work that way? Was it me, was it my fault, something I did or didn’t do?

And I suppose, if time allowed, I’d want to know… did it hurt, dieing? Could he hear us in the ICU? What’s it like, for him now, in his After… if there is one at all?

Give me just minutes, and I’d talk… I’d tell him I’m OK, the kids are OK, we will be fine. I’m stronger than I thought. That I was so lucky to have him for as long as I did. All the things I said to him, already, when he was lieing, dieing, in a stark white hospital bed.

But I doubt it would work that way. If popular fiction tells us anything, it’s that contact with the AfterLife is fleeting at best.

So if I had just seconds, just a minute or two with my husband again… I doubt I’d say anything at all. Except to whisper I love you against his lips.

It’s not that I want to say anything. I just want to feel the size of him, the strength of him again. The way he held me as if I were made of some fine porcelain that might break if he weren’t gentle. The way he kissed me as if I were precious. I just want to hold him again, just for second. And whisper that I love him, always have, always will. And hear him whisper it back, the softness of his lips and the rough prickle of stubble brushing my cheek as he does so.

It’s not a burning anger, a raging, screaming desire to see him.

It’s not even a desperate want of answers.

It’s just a want, an aching hole, left by the physical presence of my soul mate. It feels like I’m missing a limb.

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{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }

Shellye September 26, 2011 at 8:15 am

This post is so precious and a great reminder to me to stop and really appreciate my husband, tell him I love him once in a while instead of assuming or hoping he knows that.


strawberrysmum September 25, 2011 at 7:22 pm

Hi Lori,
I spent a great deal of last Thursday reading your blog. I'm a PR person, I was reading blogs for research. I'm also a blogger myself. But I've never read something that affected me so much as what I've read here.
I think your blog chewed up about 3 hours of my afternoon :) It was 3 hours well spent.
You left a mark on me, and it bugged me all weekend that I didn't leave a comment.
I thought about you all weekend and even spoke to my husband about what I'd read, because I saw a lot of my hubby in what you'd written about your hubby.
He and I had a chat we'd needed to have for a long while.
So this is my comment, because I must. And I know you're not lacking in comments but I was moved on a personal level and it's a crime not to let you know. Thankyou and bless you and your family. xox


Bambi Kay September 25, 2011 at 4:17 pm

LOve and Hugs to you, Lori.


Kristen September 24, 2011 at 4:36 am

My heart breaks for yours. I just found your blog. Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing. I know this as well. When you are bored (and have internet) … come see us.
Kristen @ http://www.alittlesomethingforme.com


tattoomummy.com September 22, 2011 at 8:43 pm

Your blog always makes me snuggle in a little closer to tattoodaddy at night. Thank you for sharing x


tattoomummy.com September 22, 2011 at 8:43 pm

Your blog always makes me snuggle in a little closer to tattoodaddy at night. Thank you for sharing x


Tricia September 22, 2011 at 8:25 pm

My name is Tricia and I came to your blog via the recent newspaper article.
This post was very moving. It's good to hear how others deal with life's monumenal losses.
Your words help me. Thank you


Madam Bipolar September 22, 2011 at 5:19 pm

Big hugs.


Just Jennifer September 22, 2011 at 10:03 am

Hi Lori, I just got caught up on about your last 10 or so posts. So happy you found a home of your own, but frustrated right along with you about your internet.

As always, SO very touched by all the grief you pour out in your posts. As hard as it is to read, I must. You inspire me. thank you.


journeyman September 22, 2011 at 9:32 am

I still think you're cute.

Thare some who lose limbs who yet go on to become great champions and inspirations.


Kimmie September 22, 2011 at 7:55 am

My heart aches for you Lori.


Melissa September 22, 2011 at 7:14 am

A beautiful post. When it comes down to it, I think that's what I'd want too.



Kelloggsville September 22, 2011 at 6:12 am

well that had me sobbing and I sent a text to my husband to tell him I love him. Lori, you always take me back to the important..wet towels on the floor don't really matter and telling him I love him does. Love and hugs as always and thank you for helping me xxxx


Kristy September 22, 2011 at 6:30 am

Lori – what an amazing post as always… Thanks :) Kristy The Imperfect Mum xx


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