(no subject)

One of my many paternal aunts, who lived in Montréal, Canada, died in early April. I wasn't extremely close to her but she would call to check in with me and send me birthday cards. I'd also see her in New York during the holidays at family gatherings.

She was one of my aunts who suffered from schizophrenia/paranoia but improved with medication.

I always felt a little weird calling her because I never knew what to say. I didn't know much about her other than the fact that she traveled a lot. Her speech and her English were tough to understand at times but she had remarkably improved both over the years.

A few minutes ago, I was cleaning out one of my document bins and came across a list of questions I wrote down to ask her so I could steer conversation next time I talked to her. Her phone number was prominently scrawled at the bottom.

So I dialed it. The phone rang and rang and rang. Hope fluttered in my heart, waiting to hear her voice, mixed with anticipation that someone totally different would answer it.

An automated operator broke in to tell me in French that the number was disconnected and out of service. If I needed assistance, press "0" for help.

I hung up. She really is gone.


  1. Sizzledowski said,

    May 4, 2009 at 5:30 pm


  2. Stephany said,

    May 4, 2009 at 6:17 pm

    I’m sorry.

  3. Gianna said,

    May 4, 2009 at 8:28 pm

    that sounds like something I would do…
    I tried calling my brothers cell phone after he died…hoping to hear his voice…but it had already been canceled..
    love and hugs.

  4. Ana said,

    May 6, 2009 at 8:38 am

    I’m very sorry Marissa.
    Love and hugs.
    I have this award for you.
    Hope you like it.
    I should put it in another post. anyway…

  5. susan said,

    May 11, 2009 at 6:48 am

    Check out the wonderful video about depression with linda bove http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3D-oUwlDRsw&feature=channel_page

  6. Sean said,

    May 18, 2009 at 6:22 pm

    Something similar happened to me. My Mom passed away last fall… not exactly unexpectedly, but she was so alive, alert and full of humor that morning, that it was strange to see her body so devoid of life that afternoon.

  7. May 22, 2009 at 10:08 am

    It is hard when we lose someone to totally accept that they are gone. My mom died when I was 5, I was 11 before I finally stopped going to our door when someone drove into our drive looking to see if my mom had come home. Denial can run very deep sometimes. But I have had to ask myself; Was it denial or just a small child’s hope? Be well. I wish you all the best. fromdepressiontolaughter.com or todayilaugh@hotmail.com

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