Looking for Joseph in the Night Sky

Chapter 1

Shadows in the Night
city folk may live on the go
but I’d much rather stay here
at home with you

As I lay beside Joseph in his sickbed, light flashed through the darkened room creating a shadow on the linen white ceiling.
“Benita,” he managed to say sotto voce, “look at the light fixture. The shadow it casts resembles a pear.”
It did indeed.
Since Joseph’s passing, I’d spent a lot of time staring at the walls and looking up at the ceiling in various degrees of darkness. Shadows of tree branches swayed in the wind, and different-sized rectangles appeared and disappeared. A seated artist painted at his easel. Starry angels signaled a pathway to heaven, and birds flitted in and out of the shadows. The Virgin Mary appeared in silhouette. Joseph paced back and forth just beyond the portal to the spirit world.
Last night, minutes before I fell asleep, Joseph stood before me, behind closed eyes. His tenderness and affection enveloped me; loving reminiscences put a genuine, reassuring smile on his face. Immersed in memories of the way we were, tears of melancholy and nostalgia filled my eyes.
Joseph disappeared into the doleful night, and Bambina’s heavenly image appeared. She lay on the ground, clean and fluffy; her fur glowing with radiance. My devoted canine companion of fourteen years, rose and wagged her tail.
I walked toward her. With each step I took, she appeared smaller and farther away, and more ground materialized before her paws. Slowly, Joseph’s lineaments appeared through the multiple cracks and unevenness of the ground’s surface until his face—his intense eyes, his Roman nose, and his full lips—all his perfectly chiseled features—were visible and recognizable.
Bambina jumped and barked as she did when she wanted my attention. She trotted in circles, beckoning me to follow her. I remained perfectly still, unwilling to tread on Joseph’s cherished face.
I woke puzzled. What could the dream have meant?
If I had followed Bambina, would I have glimpsed parts of the afterlife I hadn’t yet seen? Would I have been able to cross the portal to Heaven? And if I could, would I have seen Joseph, Bubbe, my loving parents, my sister, and my dear friends now living on the Other Side?
Hopeful I’d dream again, and find answers to my questions, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Chapter 2
Joseph, Always on My Mind
the whistling of the wind
a tornado approaching
Joseph on my mind

A month and a half before Joseph passed, he called into my bedroom in the night.
“Benita, can I see you for a minute?”
“Joseph, I’m so tired. I’m up with you all day. Can you tell the night girl what you want? She’ll get it for you.”
“I want to see you. Can you come in here for a minute, please?”
I wanted to honor Joseph’s request. I loved him. There was nothing in the world I wouldn’t have done for him. But I had been working on his behalf while he was bedridden for thirteen years, day and night, and I was spent, empty. There wasn’t a bit of energy left in me. I desperately needed rest.
Joseph was my primary concern, and he was always on my mind. I was gradually losing sight of myself, but that didn’t matter to me. I tried to get up. I tried exhaustively. I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed.
“Joe, I promise I’ll be in to see you first thing in the morning. Please, sweetheart, I need to sleep.”
Joseph didn’t respond, and in my heart, I felt as though I had failed him. Morning dawned. I entered his room and found him seated at the side of his bed, wide-awake, waiting for me.
“Benita, I’m so happy to see you.”
“Joseph, I’m always happy to see you.”
I knew he couldn’t see me clearly, if he could see me at all. His eyesight had been failing for several years. He had cataracts; left-sided hemianopsia; visual field deficits; his peripheral vision was limited; and strokes not only claimed some of his language ability and his speech, but even more of his vision. Perhaps he saw me in shadow—or a blur—as I entered the room. Maybe he recognized my footsteps, or sensed my presence.
“Joseph, I’m sorry I couldn’t come in last night. Was there something you needed from me?”
“No, Benita, nothing special. I just wanted you near me. I wanted to see your face. I always want you with me.”
I approached him from his right, stood as close to his bed as possible, and leaned into him.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Can you see me now? Are you trying to memorize my face?”
“I can see you perfectly. I know your face. I just like looking at you.”
The day before Joseph passed, I stood at his bedside in the palliative care unit of the VA hospital. I traced his every feature, not with a finger but in my mind. The face I knew so well hadn’t aged much in the thirty-eight years we spent together. It was a vibrant face, youthful and loving, a face with strong features. I loved Joseph’s face, and never tired of looking at it.
I didn’t need to memorize his face either. Nor did I need to memorize anything else about Joseph. I had done that so long ago. His gestures, his stature, his voice. Everything about him, including his character, his personality, and the vast and profound love he had for me was already etched into my brain, living in my heart.
Four and a half years had passed since Joseph’s death. Although my life was falling into place, there were some restless nights and uncertain days. In a period of going to bed later and later, rising in the middle of the night for a late movie, isolating myself, experiencing aches and pains, where I never knew aches and pains could hide, I missed Joseph more than I thought a person could miss another. Losing him was the greatest tragedy of my life.
It was almost morning when the long buzz heralding his arrival, sounded in my head. Certain he was on his way, I lay perfectly still, my eyes closed, waiting patiently in anticipation of his visit, but Joseph didn’t appear. After an hour, sadness turned into despair, and I was in the throes of depression once more.