He doesn’t call me Jessie that often.  When he does, something’s gone wrong and he’s unsure how to handle the situation.  It’s out of his control and unchartered territory.  A mismapped emotion.

“Dad.  Are you going.”  It wasn’t a question, that he knew.

“I don’t even know when it is.”

“The email says it’s Saturday.  In Michigan.”

“I probably should.”

I heard the buzz of background noise in a car.  A sales rep he manages chattering. I digressed diving away from emotion.

“Are you picking me up?”

“No Jessie. Mom is.”

“Okay.  See you tonight.”
I awoke elated recognizing the date. I haven’t seen my older sister in 11 months.  I chattered  knowing I would soon be wearing turtlenecks and closed toed shoes because I had to.  In Texas, we wear sweaters as an excuse.  In New Jersey, wear them or freeze.  Walking to the computer and hitting CHECK MAIL I paused, stared at the computer, called My Father, then sat in the shower feeling nothing for 20 minutes after reading the below email My Mother forwarded from a relative.
“This email is sent with the saddest news of my life. My Mother, Barbara Henry died.   I sure wasn’t prepared for this and I can hardly believe it’s true.
She passed away peacefully, naturally with my Dad by her side.  (that’s how it should be _ I interject)  Mom went to sleep and woke up in God’s arms.”