Something about Dicken’s

“What in the Jacob Marley is happening right now ?” I yell out. My dead boyfriend is just laughing and floating around my . . our living room. “I’m losing my mind,” I say to the floor and rub my head in my hands. “I’ve been trying to tell you, Rosie, I have unfinished business and have to right my wrongs”. His wrongs. That’s almost as unbelievable as his ghostly figure before me. Jacob was the boy next door and beloved by everyone I could think of. Of course, we all have our issues but none of his would keep him away from the pearly gates. “Yeah I can’t tell you. You have to do the three-night, three-ghost thing.” I suddenly feel saddened at the thought of only having him back for a short time. “So three days together ?” He breaks out in a grin “That’s the best part the ghosts are backed up with other visits so it’s going to take months”.

That night a bright light, filled the room with almost a heavenly glow. It took my eyes a while to focus before I could make out the candle extinguisher in its hand and the features of the past. “Ready to go” it asked as it held out its hand. “Yes, I take it you are the ghost of the past?" It snorts, "Christmas Past, our hours must be extended with the growing population". Yeah, I am going to wake up in the mental hospital. My bedroom has been replaced by Jacob as a little boy in hockey skates. When he is focused on his friends his smile is easy but his eyes keep scanning the stands. With every pass of the audience, his smile dropped slightly more and his face pitched. Suddenly, the scene faded out and I was surrounded by a hall of memories. I saw in that hall every single match well into adulthood, he still searched for his loved ones, girlfriends, brothers, and parents on the biggest days but they never came. I saw the empty houses where he spent his childhood with a never-ending rotation of babysitters. The rotating door of friends that he was never in the same school long enough to get to know. Then, at the end of the hall was a mirror that had a faint glow around it almost calling me to it. In that mirror was his 25th birthday, 15 days before he died, our friends surrounded him as we sang Happy Birthday at the top of our lungs. His face had a lazy smile on it as he pulled me into his lap and kissed my lips. "Best birthday ever, you are the best". The room got very bright and then faded back to my bedroom. Christmas past was long gone but Jacob was sitting on my bed again. "What did you see?" I approached him and held my arms around him in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me about your childhood? That you were always so alone ?"

"What difference would it have made ?" He asked.

"I wanted to know all about you . . . I could have done something. I could have talked to them you know, maybe get you more connected in the community anything"

"Why would I bring it up when our life together was so different ?"

"Jacob, it was a big part of your life and we were together a year"

"Yes, only a year. We barely got a year."

A tear ran down my eyes as it all came together what he regretted and the chains keeping him bound to this earth wasn't a great sin or misdeed. “You can’t give life to the dead, Jacob. I can't give you more time”. His ghostly hand materialized just enough for me to feel his hand trace my tears. “Don’t cry Rosie, I know. Ghosts or no ghosts; it’s me and you until the wheels fall off”.

Perhaps it’s not our grief or even death that prevents us from moving on but the ghost of love’s past.A ghost will never be enough of the life we have left to live.