I received one of the greatest gifts of my life today at 9:16 a.m. The unexpected half minute of bliss came in the form of a voicemail message. The message was from someone I don't even know. The person who left the message didn't intend to leave it for me.
Or did she?
When my cell phone rang earlier today I looked at the caller ID and didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer. Shortly afterward, I saw that the caller left a voicemail message, and I listened. What I heard over the next 30 seconds nearly dropped me to my knees. In a grandmotherly voice sweeter than any tea I've ever sipped on a hot summer day, the caller left the following message. I must note that these typed words don't even come close to capturing the joyful tone behind it all.
She said:
"I just had to call you to thank you for the card, the beautiful card. And, I want to repeat what you said to me, because it's my turn to say thank you for being my friend for so many years. It's always meant a lot to me. And, especially the hug I get with it. Alright? I love you, honey. And thank you, and have a good day. Bye bye."
My heart jumped. I felt flushed and physically lightheaded. And I cried.
The voice sounded exactly like that of my late Gram, who will have been gone for three years on June 2. I think of Gram often. Very often. Lately, however, as the anniversary of her death approaches, Gram's smell, smile and voice permeate me. And right there, unexpectedly left on my phone, was a message from a voice strikingly similar to Gram's. It blew me away.
While I knew immediately that the stranger's voicemail message wasn't really intended for me, I knew immediately that it really was. I know it was. I just know it.
I dialed the number from which the message came, and an answering machine greeted me. I tried another time or two throughout the day and also connected with the answering machine. Still later, I tried again. I had to speak to this woman. Finally, she did answer, and the next five minutes were even more blissful for me than the 30 seconds during which I first listened to the voicemail message.
I told the woman I received a message from her that I'm quite certain wasn't meant for me, and I wanted to let her know so she could call the person for whom it was. She laughed and apologized for bothering me, but I stopped her before she could finish her sentence. I thanked her for bothering me! I thanked her for leaving a message much like those my Gram used to leave for me. I thanked her for making me think of my beautiful Gram more vividly than I have in the three years since she's been gone.
Helen proceeded to tell me how kind I was. She then asked, "Do you know how old I am?" I told her I had no idea, and she replied, "I'm 104." Wow! This gentle soul then explained to me how she has outlived most of her friends, so she has to make new ones. Did I mention yet how blissful this conversation was? I was humbled to be her new friend, if only for a few minutes.
Helen and I spoke a bit longer and bid each other a very fond farewell. I told her I will never erase her voicemail message, and if she ever wanted to call me again she is most welcome to. I'd love to talk to her anytime she wants.
As I prepare to head off to bed tonight I am left feeling grateful for a sweet living soul who found a way to connect me to my Gram's sweet eternal soul. One of the last things I told Gram before she passed away was, "We'll always be connected, Gram." And she replied, "I know we will."
Yes, Gram, we are connected. We all are. Now I have proof.
