The Mind Meld

 

 

“His condition just gets worse and worse.”

Howard made a heartfelt confession. “I keep fighting my fears and doubts, but I’m losing––I’m losing hope. Losing faith. I guess I haven’t been hiding it as well as I thought.”

“Not to Mac. That’s the reason Sandra is using me to reach out to you,” I said, channeling Sandra’s words. “Mac feels your energy and senses your thoughts, Howard, even in a coma. You’re not just his dad, you’re his hero. And if his hero loses all hope, Mac will, too.”

Howard hung his head in anguish. His colors were icky, a disturbing mix of guilt and shame and hopelessness.

Ghost Mom kept giving me words to share with her former husband.

“Sandra says this isn’t Mac’s time to die, Howard, that he’s stuck between worlds. Mac needs things that anchor him to Altoona or he won’t be able to come back. Even little things like the Hot Wheels race car could help him find his way home. You saw it firsthand, how he gripped that little car with a strength he should not have.”

“But how do I help Mac?” Howard said. “If Mac is sensing how lost I am, how can I avoid making things even worse?”

I felt Sandra’s response in my head. I shook my head no. Making a timeout sign with my hands, I looked at Ghost Mom floating above. “Really sorry, Mrs. Morton, but those words, they don’t work for me. C’mon, you’re calling Howard ‘my love,’ and stuff, and it’s just like ick.”

In an instant, Sandra Morton’s ghost sent me different words.

“Ah, much better,” I said. “Thank you, that will work.”

I looked at Howard and said, “Sandra says you have to find your hope again.”

That made him angry.

“You think I haven’t been trying?” Howard tapped his chest with his hand. “It’s as if I have nothing left in me! And now Mac is running out of time. Tell Sandra I can’t do this alone.”

More of Sandra’s words popped into my head.

“Sandra knows you can’t do it alone, Howard,” I said. “That’s why she’s bringing someone here to help you.”

“Who?” he said. “Who’s going to help?”

I waited for the answer to appear. Sandra sent me no words to relay. We stood in silence. Or actually, one of us hovered ghost-style.

“Who is Sandra sending to help me?” Howard repeated.

Sandra Morton’s ghost didn’t need to answer his question. The answer literally walked into the room.

“What are you guys doing in here?” A familiar, soft, and beautiful voice said. Howard, Sandra Morton, and I looked to the doorway.

It was my mom.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Ah, yes,” Howard said. He fumbled through his thoughts. “Bertie and I were just discussing … the unique history of her sunglasses. A few years ago, I sold that particular brand in my practice. Anyway, Bertie she’s … quite a unique young lady.”

Huh?

Mom clearly wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. It could mean a whole lot of things. She gave me a quick look for reassurance that I hadn’t caused another Morton catastrophe. I gave her a thumbs up. Looking at Howard, Mom said, “Well, alright then. I’m heading down to the chapel. Thought I’d say a prayer for Mac.”

Sandra Morton’s ghost smiled.

I did, too.

“Can I join you?” Howard said.

“Always.” Mom smiled.

Finally, Howard smiled. And you know what? It was a hopeful smile.

Howard and Mom headed off to the chapel, hand-in-hand.

For a moment, I thought about what I just witnessed. It blew me away. The grace and generosity of what Sandra’s ghost had just done. Check it out: Sandra Morton used her ghostly influence to send my mom to help Howard, the love of Sandra’s former life. Sandra did this in the hopes that Howard would find enough faith to help Mac wake from his coma. And Mac was in that coma because of me. All those twisty connections added up to one thing. Sandra Morton was the coolest ghost alive!

Or undead? Or actually dead?

“Mrs. Morton, can I ask you a question?”

“Call me Sandra, and I will call you Bertie. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said.

“What’s your question, Bertie?”

“I’m just kind of wondering what it’s like for you. I mean, is it scary being dead? Where do you go when you die? And when you get there, what do you do?”

“That’s three questions.”

“Three awesome questions!”

“More like big questions. And I can only give you little answers and hope they make sense.” She lowered herself so we were nearly eye-to-eye, “Don’t be afraid, Bertie. The afterlife isn’t scary. In fact, it’s more magnificent than any words could ever say. After I died, I went to an afterworld way station of sorts, a place where souls get ready to move on. The way station is where you learn to let go of the life you knew on Earth. People, places, everything. It’s where you learn to love without the pain.”

“So you don’t miss living in Altoona?” I said.

“No, I don’t. I’ve learned to let Altoona go.”

“What about Howard and Tabitha and Mac? You don’t miss them, either?”

“I miss them so much it hurts.” The ghost mom forced herself to smile.

My heart broke for her. The pain she felt. The sacrifice she was making,

“Sandra, I’m sorry,” I said. “And I swear if I could change what I did, how I hurt Mac, l would––”

“Stop! Don’t finish that sentence. Feeling guilty won’t help Mac or you or anyone else. If you want to change things, Bertie, change how you live your one precious life from this moment on.”

“But there’s nothing more I can do for Mac. Plus, I’ll be leaving town soon.” I motioned to a clock on the wall. “My father will be here in a couple of hours to take me home to North Carolina.”

Before Sandra could respond, we heard a horrific wail, followed by four terrible words shouted by a frantic nurse. “Code Blue, Room 548!”