Habitue

For two weeks a former coworker of mine kept popping into my head, even in my dreams.  I had not seen him, or even thought of him in over 7 years.  He had retired suddenly after a battle with lung cancer.  Half of one lung with the cancerous tumor was removed successfully.

“That’s weird,” I thought.  “Why do I keep thinking about Gerry Smith?”   It was a nagging feeling, as if he was demanding my attention when I suddenly thought, maybe the cancer came back and he passed away.  Google just makes these moments so easy.  NADA.  Of course, he does have a very common name, but I knew where he lived and I also knew some of his family members.  I checked him out as best I could.  No one on Facebook mentioned his passing, and I  found no evidence of an obituary.  “Shame on me,” I thought.  You’ve prematurely got the guy six feet under and you are spying on him and his family.

I was heading up to NY to visit my relatives who happen to live near where Gerry and I used to work.  The nagging feeling traveled with me.  I thought about calling him, but what would I say?  “Hi!  Remember me?  I can’t stop thinking about you and I dont know why?  Want to hang out?”  That would probably go over really well with his wife and would make no sense since we really weren’t that close and as I said we had been out of touch for seven years. So I just chalked it up to crazy old me getting all stuck up in my head and went about my road trip.

Being Nana, and away from my grandchildren is tough.  When I arrived in NY, my daughter informed me that my grandson had to make up a gymnastic class.  “Would you like to take him?” she said.  “Absolutely!” I was thrilled to spend one on one time and see him tumble.  He was only four at the time, so he held my hand when we arrived at the gym, leading me down a staircase and said, “Come on Nana, the grownups can come sit down on the mats over there.”  And he pointed towards where I should sit. 

I sat down in the lotus position and was gazing at my grandson with utter pride when low and behold, Gerry Smith popped into the old bean again, but this time it was as if I heard a voice and it said, “Look up.”  So I looked up at the glass enclosed viewing gallery above where I was sitting, knowing the next thing my eyes would see was Gerry Smith and there he was, his face sort of pressed up against the glass.  I waved and he didn’t wave back.  “Does he not recognize me? Well, now I know you are really as weird as you think you are, my dear,” I thought and was a little annoyed because I knew I’d be distracted while watching my grandson until I could get up the stairs to talk to Gerry Smith. 

The class was ending and I quickly grabbed my grandson’s hand and pulled him along back up the stairs to where Gerry Smith was sitting.  Gerry, I could now see, was hooked up to oxygen and in a wheel chair.  “Gerry.  Gerry.”  Nothing.  Did he not hear me? “Gerry, it’s Bonnie from the post office, don’t you remember me?” 

“Oh hi,” was all he said and he looked away with a faraway look. 

Obviously this meeting had more significance for me than it did for him.  His daughter was standing beside him.  I had met her a couple of times at the post office and she recognized me.  We started talking as if Gerry was not there, because unfortunately, it sorta seemed like Gerry was not there.

“Sorry to see your dad’s not doing too well.” 

“Yeah.  He’s having a rough time.”

“Sorry.” I said again.  “Hey this will sound weird, (I just had to tell someone) but I’ve been thinking about your dad for two weeks nonstop and it’s such a weird coincidence to bump into him here today.  This was a makeup class for my grandson.” 

“That’s funny," she replied.  This is a makeup class for my son.  I was bringing Dad back from the doctor and decided to stop in spur of the moment.  I had no intention of coming today and had the overwhelming desire to stop.  It’s difficult to take Dad in and out of the van but he said he wanted to see the kids tumble.”

“Really.  Huh.”  So I did the only thing I thought appropriate at the moment. I leaned down to the wheel chair and gave Gerry a big hug.  He smiled and said nothing.  I said goodbye and walked out feeling like I was grasping at something unfamiliar yet somewhat thrilling in an odd sort of way.

It wasn’t till later that evening that I thoughts of the supernatural.  What if what was calling out to my psyche for that two week period was the future ghost of Gerry Smith? If we don’t know for sure ghosts are real, how do we know ghost behavior?  Maybe our own ghosts are just floating around ready and waiting to take over at the crucial moment of our demise.

“Aye Aye captain.  Coming in for a landing.”

Truthfully, I have absolutely no idea what this little story means if anything.  Coincidence?

I had never been inclined to believe in the paranormal. Was I about to change my beliefs now? Call me cold if you like, but just in case this had to do with something metaphysical, I decided to forget all about Gerry Smith. No googling, no facebook, no thoughts, until I decided to write about this today. I truly prefer to live in a ghost free zone. 

P. S. This is not fiction. The last name of the subject named has been changed to protect their privacy and identity. Your thoughts @Danceinsilence?