As I thought of what had happened, I started to get cold again and it took me a minute to figure out why. He was back! I struggled to fight against the drug and open my eyes. I was shivering and my heart raced a mile a minute but I managed to get one eye halfway opened. I tried to find the call button but my arms didn’t work and I waited in terror for his next move. He reached his hand out as he stepped towards me and I felt cold to the bone. Was this it? His hand neared my mouth, but the drugs won and I started to nod off. Just for a split second before I passed out it almost looked like a nurse was taking my temperature. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.
I awoke sometime later wondering why he hadn’t taken me. The drugs had worn off a bit and the room looked different—stark and bare. Had everything been a dream or had he really been there? I wasn’t sure, even as he appeared again at the end of my bed. I gave up and just closed my eyes, wondering what was real or if I was even awake; I couldn’t tell anymore. Whatever happened happened … I didn’t care. I’d either wake up in the hospital or I’d wake up dead.
I was traveling home, alone, from my uncle’s funeral. He and I were pretty close since my father had passed some years ago when I was a child and he pretty much raised me. His death was sudden and unexpected and it hit me like a ton of bricks. He’d been my second father and I was the son he’d never had … he had four daughters and enjoyed teaching me all the “boy” things he couldn’t with his daughters. Not that he didn’t try; he did—until they found out what boys were and slowly drifted away leaving just me to spend our “boy” time together.
He taught me to hunt and fish and play sports, at least the ones I was interested in; he showed me how to be a man as I grew up. My mother appreciated it since she had my sisters to raise and didn’t know quite what to do with me as I grew up. I missed my father terribly, but having my uncle to help me grow up was something special for me. I will always have wonderful memories of him but his passing left a large hole in my heart, and I missed him.
It started on my way home from the funeral; I was so upset that I almost ran off the road. I was driving, lost in my thoughts about my uncle, when out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a figure. This startled me because I was alone. When I had a second to glance over, I thought I saw my uncle sitting next to me and smiling. I looked back at the road to make sure I was still in my lane and to try and understand seeing what I thought was my uncle but when I looked back, the seat was empty. I felt a weird shiver run through me and got goosebumps and my hands started to shake on the steering wheel. I’d heard about stuff like this but had always thought it was all nonsense. When you died, you died. You didn’t go to any place special, you just stopped existing and were absorbed back into the quagmire of the earth. At least that’s what I’d grown up believing.
I got home a bit shaken, put my keys on my key hook, and sat down to reflect on what I thought I had seen. After some time I convinced myself that what I’d seen was just me in a place where I missed him so much that my mind made him appear to help me cope with his loss. It was still weird, and I was left feeling a little off. I chalked it up to grief and what your mind does to handle it. I certainly didn’t spend much time on it once I came to that conclusion. Ha, little did I know!
The next morning I arose and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Just as a kind of memorial to my uncle, I decided to make his favorite breakfast, which was one of mine too. I fried up some bacon and then cooked a couple of sunny-side-up eggs in the grease. The toast popped up almost at the same time the eggs. I sat at the table and dug in. As I leaned forward to take a bite, I saw my uncle again. He was sitting directly across from me and as soon as I looked at him, he disappeared. I couldn’t take another bite.
I couldn’t move and kept staring at the chair I had seen him in. I began to sweat and feel somewhat nauseous so reluctantly, I stood up, went to the sink, and threw some cold water over my face. I felt better, so I headed into the front room and sat in my easy chair, doing nothing, just sitting there and thinking. I wondered if I was obsessing over his death. Maybe I couldn’t handle it as well as I thought I did and my subconscious was letting
