Ruby 1

I’m a big believer in “you have to know where you’ve been, to know where you are going.” Let me fill you in on the 82 years you’ve missed.

• I’m 82.
  
• Despite the hearing aid you see, I don’t have a hearing problem.
  
• My family, thinking I’m just out of earshot, will often complain about my “sassiness,” even in my old age.
  
• Despite my “falls,” I don’t have a balance problem, or problem getting around for that matter.
  
• Despite what the Department of Transportation says, I can still drive.
  
• I owned a really cool coffee shop before Starbucks was even an idea. My coffee shop is not in my hands anymore, but it’s still more comfortable and more personable than that mega monstrosity.
  
• I lost my first husband during the holidays. He fell off an icy ladder putting up Christmas lights, hit his head, and time of death was called the day after Thanksgiving. That was 14 years ago.
  

 

I’m not telling you all this for sympathy, apathy or any other “athy.” I just want you to understand, I’ve been through life, handled its ebbs and flows with as much dignity and grace as I could muster. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I heard a name whispered out of nowhere as I sat down for my daily crossword.

I know I said I didn’t have a hearing problem. It was so faint though that I had to turn up the volume on my hearing aid.

“Nooooooooorm. Wiiiiillllllllsssson.”

No way, no how. I’d been reading the newspapers about these voices people had been hearing…how they were calling it the next evolution of man. How these voices were leading people to their “supposed” true love. Some people were unfortunate, hearing names whispered in their heads that didn’t ring a bell…didn’t connect to anyone they’d ever met.

I knew Norm Wilson.

Before I tell you anything about Norm from my church, let me first give you my opinion on this whole ordeal. I was happily married for 43 years before my husband, George, fell and freakishly passed on. Sure, sometimes the marriage was more like a routine than anything else. We had lots in common – we loved Barq’s Root Beer in a can, not a bottle. We both were expert jigsaw puzzle workers, George usually taking on the most formidable part of the puzzle and I gravitating to the most colorful part that caught my eye. We traveled parts of the world together, seeing Sydney’s Opera House, Stonehenge and even the Taj Mahal. We were both small business owners, and found solace in being able to discuss issues and feel that we both were in the same boat with the same problems. And we had three children, and loved and gave them all we could.

Needless to say, 43 years of love, of marriage, of experiences is tough to turn your back on…especially if these whispers were messages from above.

The most I knew about Norm was that he was new to our church, a widower, and played a mean game of dominos. He came to church each Sunday, sat at the back and wore a black derby cap that he’d take off out of extreme courtesy the second he stepped on the threshold of the door to the entry lobby. I’d never spoken to Norm, just heard everything through the typical church gossip mill. From my perch in the choir with other older women, it’s easy to dissect the congregation and who is sleeping, snoozing or just downright not paying attention.

Norm was attentive for a back row churchgoer. And he was my name.