Last night I was having a rough night. Just overly emotional for a lot of reasons. Missing home, worrying about my family in the middle of this crazy week of hurricanes and earthquakes rumbling through Hampton Roads, and more. I was feeling sorry for myself. And I only knew two people who could make it all better. And coincidentally, they have the same name....
I took Bunkey upstairs and snuggled under the covers with my little man, breathing in his baby smell and just reveling in his innocence. That as long as he's fed and warm and dry and comfy all is right in his world. When even that couldn't quench my tears, I reached for my cell phone and punched in speed dial #3. And the Verizon lady told me that the number had been disconnected.
Speed dial #3 is/was my daddy's number. My mom didn't disconnect that line after he died for a number of reasons, one of which being that Little Brother's phone was on the fritz so he used that line for a while when he was out of town and unable to get to a Verizon store to reactivate an old phone... But I digress. So every now and then, when I was down, I'd call my dad's line just to hear his voice "Leave a message at the tone, or ring my office line at..." Certainly not comforting words, but a comfort to hear my dad's voice. To remember how it sounds.
So when I learned that the line had been disconnected, I just burst into a whole new batch of tears. I called my mom. I didn't care that it was nearly midnight at home. I didn't care that she's been having trouble sleeping. I didn't care that she was prepping for a huge storm to come through and she is missing the noise of having Little Brother at home (he left for college a week ago). I wanted to know why she disconnected the line without telling me. So I could call one last time to hear my dad.
And I made her promise not to change the message on the answering machine of her land line. Not yet. I'm not ready. I still need to hear his voice sometimes.
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