I cancelled my husband’s phone today. He has been dead over 22 months. Why has it taken so long? So many reasons.
Sometimes I forget I saw his body buried and I think if there was a mistake and he makes it back, he will need his phone.
Other times I can’t figure out why in this day and age God doesn’t let them text from heaven.
Mostly, I don’t want to lose access to his accounts. So many things send a text to your phone to verify your account if you forget your email or even log on from a new device. What if I need that? What if I’ve lost an email or a photo?
I’ve waited almost two years with vain hopes of the District Attorney agreeing to return his phone. Some cases move faster than others. I’ve told more than my fair share of victims they won’t get their phone back. Young girls whose phones were used in their exploitation. It doesn’t matter that there isn’t any evidence on that phone. If it gets returned too soon a defense attorney will use it to try to confuse a jury.
So much of our relationship was text related. When we first met and were living on opposite sides of the world, we had to text because he basically had to use a dictionary for every sentence. Later he sent me photos of Zoya all day while I worked and I sent him photos all night while he worked.
The year after he died my time hop always had portions of our conversations to share. I thought those were preserved but they disappeared when I changed phones. They are still on his phone.
Part of my current season has been remembering the reality of the wonderful man I was married to for less than three years. I’ve been remembering his love, his actions, and his salvation. Letting go of his number felt rash. I was on the phone to get my phone ready to travel to Amsterdam so I did the practical thing and released his number.
It hurts. I hoped it would feel like a release or even a non event, but in this day and age, maybe letting go of the number that connected you is one of the biggest steps. His wedding suit was so much easier to give away. I’ve hoped he would return, irrationally I know. I’ve hoped his parents would visit and be able to have a phone.
I’m writing to memorialize this day.
I’m writing to speak truth to myself.
I did something hard today. I cancelled his phone line. I may lose some records, but it’s doubtful. I will not lose the affect he has or the person he made me. I am no further than him today than yesterday. I am one day closer to seeing him again in a world where we don’t have to text. We will speak the same language some day.
This world is hard, but God provides good.