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Rated: E · Fiction · Family · #2294080
A man receives a visit from his deceased mother. Was it real or not?
“The Visit”


W. P. Gerace

“Couldn’t you hear me knocking George?” Sarah asked her bewildered teal eyes staring at him.

“Oh, sorry babe. I was just sitting here thinking. “Smiling he could not but feel the excited energy he was having inside now. Everything would be different soon around here.

“Well, I know you have lot going on, but my mom and dad are coming for dinner tonight. They want to celebrate with us on your promotion. You know how my dad feels about making a decent living and providing for us and all. “George regretted Sarah’s father Ben coming over he was such a hard nose Mr. Vice President of Pierce Bank well to do and all nothing was ever good enough for his little girl. He could feel his blood boiling at just the thought of him coming over.

“Be nice George. I talked to my dad, and he said he will be on his best behavior. He promised. “Leaning up Sarah was four foot two almost a midget compared to George’s towering muscular build.

“For you babe ok. Maybe your mother made some of her favorite Chocolate cheesecake. “Visioning his mother n law Nat’s famous cake, he could not wait to taste some of it.

“But of course. Now get ready, they will be here in twenty minutes or probably sooner you know how my father drives. “Motioning with her hands the fast-moving impressions of a steering wheel George know all too well how fast his crazy father n law drove.

Walking down the steps he could hear Sarah hum one of her favorite Celine Dion songs. Maybe now that he is an actual Team Leader at Price Marketing where he will oversee the work of 25 call center agents, he can afford one of those concerts for the love of his life. Maybe she can stop working two jobs and enjoy life a little. Just maybe her father the brute can back down off him a bit too. All these maybes whirling through his head George could not help but wonder what their new life would be like. No children yet wanting to wait until things get better financially just maybe they can finally afford to have some. Another critique from Ben the Gestapo would be corrected. Hopefully.

Opening the window in their second-floor apartment a warm fresh breeze rustled in from the early summer sky. Twirling about he heard the rustling of those oak trees that lined their complex twisting about easily manipulated by the approaching summer storm. Streaking across the dark sky flashes of silver lightning lit up the area. Right behind it were the rumbling roars of thunder. Smirking, he still recalls his mother telling him when he was a kid that was the Angels bowling up in heaven. That happiness quickly turned to sadness it had been nearly four years since her sudden passing. He sure wished she was still here.

On their oak panel bureau sat a few things remnants of their past and present as George liked to refer to them. Pictures of Sarah’s late grandmother Harriet her grandfather Corky George’s parents Anthony and his mom Bridget. Grabbing the last picture, he had of his mom the one right before God took her back home. There she was sitting on the porch of their home on Jeffers Street in Northeast Philadelphia. Her auburn eyes so full of life, her skin a light tannish color still full of spirit and spice her laugh apparent in the picture as her pink lips were parted showing her gleaming white teeth. There was no sign of death or anything wrong showing in this picture. Yet not even 24 hours later her sister his Aunt Ruth called to tell him she was gone.

Shaking his head, he began to talk to the picture asking why did she leave him? It was not her time. She was only in her fifties still in the prime of her life still working as a first-grade schoolteacher at St. Mary’s Catholic school where she had taught the past 20 plus years. So many unanswered questions spun through his head like little clouds he could not fathom why or the reasoning behind it.

“Georgie. Georgie. Georgie, can you see me?” He knew that voice he had known since childhood.

“Mom are you here? This is crazy. The dead do not come back to see the living, do they?” George struggled with his thoughts was he going crazy or was his mother here.

Suddenly a soft touch caressed his hand. Twisting his head around there she stood the same way he remembered her last. Wearing her church Sunflower dress her gold crucifix hanging around her neck. Her soft golden blonde hair done up in a bun her light brown eyes full of life and hope. It was as if she were still alive in the flesh.

“Mom is it really you? I miss you so much.” Georgie replied.

“It is but I can not stay long. I just want you to know I love you and want you to not worry about me. I am at peace and happy. I have no pain and am living in total peace. “He could see her eyes glow a bright whitish hue as she spoke.

“I miss you mommy. I want you to stay. “

“I cannot. It is not your time. Just know I am proud of the man you have become. You have a lovely wife and soon will have a child. You do not need me honey. You are so good now.” Kissing his cheek as quickly as she appeared she left.

Looking around he saw no one there. Was he dreaming was that his mother he saw. Suddenly as he tried to grasp what just happened there stood Sarah her eyes gazing at him as if he were crazy. Had she heard him.

She asked, “Couldn’t you hear me knocking?”

© Copyright 2023 W.P. Gerace (phoenixdude71 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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