Poems and Personal Writings
Peter
By Lora Lee Roberts · Originally published August 3, 2015
He said he was fine. He said not to worry he would call in the morning.
He had hugged me and told me he loved me.
It was Friday morning and unusually warm for a St. Louis October day. I had been invited to a friend’s birthday party that evening and decided after having my coffee to get dressed for the event. I had a gnawing feeling that I needed to be prepared and might not have time to get ready later.
I wore black slacks and a black sweater with simple jewelry.
He had told me he was alright.
I have an at home business, and I worked through the day like any other day. When the phone rang I would immediately think “it’s him” and then it wasn’t. I went to the store with my cell phone in my hand, no call, NO CALL and he always called me.
He had told me not to worry.
The day passed and any outsider looking at me would have thought I didn’t have a care in the world. I was in silent panic. I stared at my silent phone.
He had looked at me with wistful eyes.
The party was lovely. I engaged in conversation and looked like all the other partygoers having a carefree evening. No one noticed that I was continually looking at my phone for a missed call or text message. Nothing.
Why didn’t he call me?
I unlocked the door, turned on the lights and within minutes the doorbell rang. Standing there, were two police officers. They told me he was dead and at the morgue.
I didn’t scream or cry like actors do in the movies. I was frozen. Soon my house was full of people some crying, everyone stunned.
We drove to the morgue.
Looking through a large plate glass window with the drapes now pulled, I saw my son. He was lying on a gurney and for a moment I thought he was just sleeping, except his eyes were not closed all the way.
I just stared. No screaming, no crying. Just the empty feeling that later would become quite a natural feeling for me.
Later that night when everyone left and I was alone, I called his phone and listened to his voice message, with his distinctive rapid way of speaking. I listened over and over and over.