My nanna's surfing the after-life 21 Sept 2013
They must have put a phone in my nanna’s coffin. She got through.
Not many people can get a line through from the afterlife. But if anyone can, my nanna can. And if you need more proof of her cunning, she got me at work – a job I started well after she passed away. “Nanna,” I yelled down the phone, “how did you find me?” It was a bad line. Not only was she calling from the world of the deceased, but she was talking in Yiddish, her childhood language. I choked back tears. “Oh Nanna, I’ve missed you so much.” Some sort of multi-dimensional translator must have kicked in, because I soon started to understand what she was saying. She said life was okay. Boring, but okay. I understood. My nanna had always liked to be amongst big crowds, where the action was. She had found the quietude of old age so debilitating, so I could imagine her hating the after-life. But I was shocked when she explained that life in the coffin was just terrible. My poor nanna. I had presumed that if there was a next life, there would at least be a shopping mall. I asked if there was any way out of the coffin. “Of course,” she bellowed. “There’s a cafeteria. But you-know-who’s always there.” I didn’t know who. With Nanna, I never knew she was talking about. “How did you contact me, Nanna?” I asked. She didn’t answer directly. She said that she’d tried getting through to her own children, but their lines were always busy. “But you,” she continued, “you always listen.” It was true. I loved the rhythms of her voice. And so I did listen. In her own ‘you-know-who’ kind of way, she made herself clearly understood. She just wanted to stay connected with what’s happening, to not feel stuck in a box. I told her that if she could get through on a phone line, then she should be able to hook up to a satellite. I gave her my ISP login and password. Now, my nanna and I don’t talk anymore. The phone line’s gone dead. But I can still see what she’s up to. I get these mysterious pop-ups on my work screen that no one in IT can explain. But I know. It’s Nanna, surfing the web. Sometimes I even get hints of where she’s been, shops she’s been browsing at, concerts she’s exploring. In her coffin, Nanna’s having the time of her life. May she rest in peace. |
How did she get my number?
|
|
|