LeLe's Dad and I were reminiscing with her and MK last night about when she and her brother were small. Brother used to call to her from another room and expect her to come running to see what he wanted. In my mind, I can still hear the voices of my children when they were tiny. The way brother would shorten her name, leaving out one of the vowels. The way you could hear the aggravated tone of her reply at being called to stop what she was doing, and appease her younger sibling. I miss hearing that. I miss my children.
This morning I was going over that conversation in my head and realized that I can still hear all the voices of the people I love, who are now are gone. Plain as day I can hear LeLe and brother's voice, but more than that, I can hear my father calling my name. (He also left out a vowel.) It's a memory that both gives me comfort and tears my heart out. I can still hear my maternal grandparents calling to me. I hear the love in their voices and the way they changed my name to make it sound funny or loving.
I hope that my children will be able to hear my voice when I am gone. And I hope and pray that it is a comfort and the memory is of loving words.