| Supernatural Non-Fiction posted December 7, 2022 |
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A messge from my husband.
I'm Not Dead!!
by prettybluebirds
Supernatural Encounter--not horror Contest Winner
He refused to admit he was dying. It was late 2018, and my husband, Des, had just been informed he had stage four colon cancer. The doctors had given him a matter of weeks to live and allowed him to return home under Hospice care. Des, in his usual narcissistic manner, said they didn't know anything; nothing was wrong with him that a couple of days rest wouldn't cure.
At that time, Des had been under the weather, as he called it, for the previous two years. He allowed me, his wife, to take him to a doctor occasionally but refused to let them do diagnostic tests to determine what was wrong. The macho, tough guy in Des considered sickness unmanly. It went on that way until he finally felt terrible enough that I had an ambulance take him to Mercy emergency. It was then we learned the tragic extent of his illness.
Des only lived another three weeks, and in all that time, he never accepted that he was dying. When anyone came to see him, Des told them he was fine and would be up and around in a day or two. Des refused medication until the pain became unbearable; then, the Hospice nurses would give him a liquid dose of morphine because he wouldn't take pills. Things continued in this manner until Des lapsed into a coma. He passed away on December 1st, 2018.
The following few days were hectic. I had Des cremated as was his wish. Des also had made it plain that he wanted no funeral, so his children and I agreed on a memorial service when we buried his ashes in the spring. I bought a lovely urn for Des's ashes and put the urn and ashes on a shelf in my closet to await burial. The old farmhouse seemed empty with Des gone. At least I still had our dog, Pup, and the six cats we had both loved to keep me company.
A week or two after Des passed away, Pup, I, and a couple of the cats snuggled down for a good night's sleep. It had been a long day caring for the cattle alone, so sleep came quickly to my tired body. I missed Des, but at least he was no longer in pain.
I don't recall what time it was when I heard Des yelling. He seemed far away, and some of the words sounded garbled, but I definitely got the message. Des was pissed-off because he was dead. He told me nothing was wrong with him and how dare I burn him like garbage (his words).
I sat up with my hair standing on end. I looked at the animals to see if they heard him too. The cats, being cats, were still sleeping peacefully, but Pup was staring at the closet and wagging her tail. I never doubted it was Des. He would never leave without having the last word.
He refused to admit he was dying. It was late 2018, and my husband, Des, had just been informed he had stage four colon cancer. The doctors had given him a matter of weeks to live and allowed him to return home under Hospice care. Des, in his usual narcissistic manner, said they didn't know anything; nothing was wrong with him that a couple of days rest wouldn't cure.
At that time, Des had been under the weather, as he called it, for the previous two years. He allowed me, his wife, to take him to a doctor occasionally but refused to let them do diagnostic tests to determine what was wrong. The macho, tough guy in Des considered sickness unmanly. It went on that way until he finally felt terrible enough that I had an ambulance take him to Mercy emergency. It was then we learned the tragic extent of his illness.
Des only lived another three weeks, and in all that time, he never accepted that he was dying. When anyone came to see him, Des told them he was fine and would be up and around in a day or two. Des refused medication until the pain became unbearable; then, the Hospice nurses would give him a liquid dose of morphine because he wouldn't take pills. Things continued in this manner until Des lapsed into a coma. He passed away on December 1st, 2018.
The following few days were hectic. I had Des cremated as was his wish. Des also had made it plain that he wanted no funeral, so his children and I agreed on a memorial service when we buried his ashes in the spring. I bought a lovely urn for Des's ashes and put the urn and ashes on a shelf in my closet to await burial. The old farmhouse seemed empty with Des gone. At least I still had our dog, Pup, and the six cats we had both loved to keep me company.
A week or two after Des passed away, Pup, I, and a couple of the cats snuggled down for a good night's sleep. It had been a long day caring for the cattle alone, so sleep came quickly to my tired body. I missed Des, but at least he was no longer in pain.
I don't recall what time it was when I heard Des yelling. He seemed far away, and some of the words sounded garbled, but I definitely got the message. Des was pissed-off because he was dead. He told me nothing was wrong with him and how dare I burn him like garbage (his words).
I sat up with my hair standing on end. I looked at the animals to see if they heard him too. The cats, being cats, were still sleeping peacefully, but Pup was staring at the closet and wagging her tail. I never doubted it was Des. He would never leave without having the last word.
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Writing Prompt Write about your supernatural event with an encounter of alleged spirit(s) This is based on a true event. Elaboration allowed Word count-- 450-500 No Biblical encounters/G-rated-suitable for children/Black font |
Supernatural Encounter--not horror Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
#27 December 2022 |
The picture is of my husband, Des. He was a narcissistic and strong-willed person. It amazed me that he even thought death didn't dare touch him unless he said so. He was not easy to live with, but we got along well.
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one point
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