Virtual Ghost

Tragedy always comes unexpected. The grief comes like a ball in full force knocking out the wind out of you. Knocking you down and even if you try to regain balance to stand, you stay down. Afraid the force will come again, stronger. I’m at the moment when I’m trying to find balance after the blow. You can say I’m still down.

I’m in the midst of my new normal, clenching to Eli’s blanket while laying on his bed. I do this multiple times a day just to inhale his scent that still lingers in his room. I like to look around and admire his artwork that he neatly displayed in his room. This makes me smile and seems to be the only way I find sleep lately. Eli is my son- well he was until last week when a delivery truck robbed me out of my legacy...my joy... my reason to live. The truck collided with Eli as he played on the driveway. He was just a little boy. I can feel that moment frozen in time. The moment that changed me.

I’m awaken by my husband. Well the zombie of a man that resembles my once vivid spouse. The loss of Eli has hit us hard and we changed. He tries to be strong for me but I’ve found him crying in corners. We both have been moping around but he has gathered strength for the dreadful tasks that come with loss. Informing others and preparing the funeral. With the complications of a pandemic this process has just been complicated and Eli was put to rest just with our immediate circle. My husband tugs on me and convinces me to eat something. I oblige for I don’t want him eating alone again. As I pass a little nook in the kitchen I notice Eli’s school laptop is opened and on the blue login screen. I stare at it for a couple of seconds until my husbands stare wakes me from this moment. Without words we express how we miss him. I gently close the laptop and take a seat in the dinner for two.

I’m struggling in bed, wide awake. Sleep has evaded me. I give in and take a sleeping aid to give me some rest. I’m awaken violently for I was dreaming I was falling. I immediately head to Eli’s room for that’s the place I find comfort. I see the nightlight is on in the room. I sit down to cry at the foot of Eli’s bed because I’m sure my husband was there before and that is why the light is on. As I turn in the hallway I run into my husband. He has a look of concern and with a low shaky voice asked “Do you hear him too?” I nod side to side and tears overwhelm me. Gosh are we going insane. Even with this ridiculous question I’m not upset because I long to hear my son’s voice call for me. I’m envious that my husband hears him even in his imagination. In silence we embraced and returned to bed.

My husband kissed my forehead good bye as I laid in bed. Staring at my phone trying to find a subject of interest to engage me for a few minutes. Today he has to return to the office for work. My days have been lounging on my bed to the couch to Eli’s room and then to my bed. On good days I bathe and eat more than once. As I laid in bed looking at the pretty pictures depicting happiness on social media, I was startled by a noise. I ran to the kitchen for the sound was of a pot or a can that fell. At least that’s what I initially assumed. The kitchen was fine. I head back to my bedroom and in the corner of my eyes I see pencils rolling on the floor near the nook. I looked around and see that Eli’s metal pencil holder with all his pencils, markers, art brushes, color pencils and erasers had fallen off the middle shelf. I kneeled down and grabbed as much of the pencils and just broke down. I fell on the floor with my head on my knees. “Eli? Eli are you there?” A voice from the laptop breaks me from the sadness that had engulfed me.

All confused I see Eli’s teacher on the laptop screen. “Ms. Sanderson, it’s me...Eli’s mom...”. I respond. The teacher stops me and expressed how she is glad to be able to get ahold of me for she had some concerns. I informed her that I’ve been meaning to take the laptop back to the school and apologized for taking long to do so but it’s been challenging for me. “I understand, we are living difficult times. Please do stop by to see me for a bit when you come to exchange the lap top, for I will love to speak with you.” Ms. Sanderson replied. I take a bit to reply and tell her if the next day at 8am works for her. It does. Before she responded any further I closed the laptop. I dreaded the thought of walking into that school again without my son.

That evening I gathered strength to do some laundry as my husband watched tv. I need to start doing normal things again. Laughter and joy are strangers with me at the moment but I can’t turn to a complete slob. In the laundry room, I saw Eli’s dirty clothes, I staredat them and wonder if I should wash them. If I do his scent will be removed. Holding Eli’s clothes in my hands I’m interrupted by my husband calling for me. As I approached him he states with concern “So you don’t hear his voice?” I’m speechless. “What? How? Are you serious?” I respond. The man that has been so quiet lately now can’t stop speaking. He tells me how he can’t sleep because he hears Eli calling for him and I. He goes to Eli’s bedroom and the voice stops. He hears him during dinner and just know that he was watching tv. With tears in my eyes, I reached out for a hug. I’ve been so consumed in my own grief, I didn’t notice my husband was as deep in this pain as am I. I assured him that we will be okay. I also take this moment to inform him that I will return the laptop to the school tomorrow and meet with Ms. Sanderson. When he asks why, I shrug my shoulders and reply “Maybe to give us her condolences?” My husband then realizes he has not informed the school of Eli’s passing. I am mortified that I will have to tell her. No wonder she wants to speak, she must of assumed Eli was absent since he wasn’t logging into school.

“Mommy!” a disembodied voice enters the bedroom as I wake up in a pool of sweat. It must have been a dream. I look over to my husband and he’s sound asleep. Not wanting to wake him, I grab my phone and start deep diving on random social media post because I know sleep will not return for the night. I stayed awake until it was time to get ready for the book and laptop drop off at Eli’s school. I grabbed everything I know that needs to be returned and can’t help but cry. My husband consoles me and tells me he will get out of work early so he could return to me soon.

As I walk into the school, the ball of grief hits me once again. A flood of memories rushed over me. Eli’s first day of school, award assemblies, his first filed trip I chaperoned, his artwork showcase...I felt I was in an undertow of sadness. The grief was so thick it was almost tangible. I was glad there was not many people around to witness the good minute I had to take to regain composure. As I walked in, Ms. Sanderson was waiting for me in the office in a social distancing room designated to drop off laptops and books as well as chat with teachers.

With courtesy she smiles and welcomes me. I place the laptop on the table and start to place the books as I quickly start to tell her about Eli. “Ms. Sanderson, I know you must be concerned with the absences of Eli especially since he’s had good attendance all year long, but there is a valid- an excruciating reason for this and I have not had the courage to inform the news to others and my husband was taking this responsibility but he forgot to tell the school and now I’m here....” I ramble on and on and tears flood my eyes again. “Ma’am I do not know what you are trying to tell me but I assure you it’s not about Eli’s attendance. It’s about his lack of participation and his low grades for the week. “ she quietly speaks and looks at me with deep concern. With blurry vision I look up to her and respond with a shaky voice “What?”. The teacher goes on to explain that Eli has always been involved in class discussions but seems isolated now and has not turned in all his work. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” My sadness turned to anger. How can this woman sit here and tell me this shit about my dead son. Ms. Sanderson is shaken by my sudden anger. “My son is dead! That’s why he’s not participating! Is this a cruel joke?” I yell. Now I have left Ms. Sanderson speechless. She sits quietly and I can see tears pooling in her eyes. Ms. Sanderson responds with fear in her voice “But Eli has logged into school every day this week. He was on yesterday. I saw him on the screen in e-learning and so did his classmates. How could... how could this be?” The force of grief mixed with horror of the unknown brings me on my knees. I’m crying relentlessly trying to find air to breathe. Ms. Sanderson taken away by the news sits next to me and in tears. Like if she had seen a ghost. We both look at each other and gaze on the laptop on the table. “Eli died in an accident over a week ago.” I say quietly.