Member-only story
THE WIND PHONE
My Final Moments With a Beloved Aunt
The Dying Words of a Storyteller
I transferred the vintage Raggedy Anne doll from my carry-on to my oversized purse and headed from the hotel to the hospital. Raggedy’s cloth hands held tight to my purse’s rim, and her head of red-yarned hair peeked out.
“It’s not a vigil,” I told her, “just a visit.”
Even Raggedy’s dead doll eyes knew better.
It was December, 2018 and I was back in the chilly Midwest. I’d hesitated before returning to Illinois. My aunt had suffered a stroke, “catastrophic,” they said, though she was responsive. Unconscious but responsive.
I worried that I’d jinx her recovery. It’s magical thinking with a twist. Yes, I affect the greater universe, but only in a negative way. Of course, it's not true, but what if it is? Not going, though, would be disrespectful to our family. My mother had died a year before, but she and her sisters were so close. My brothers and I were close to them, too.
It was my brother who found her.
One of her bandmates had called, worried about Janet missing rehearsal. Frantic when she didn’t answer her phone. Aunt Janet was in a girl group, she called it. Maybe I started calling it that. Five of her friends, all 70 and…
