Co-parenting with my deceased husband

Raising our son & honouring his dad

Heather McLeod
Human Parts

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A dad reads to his toddler son.
Brock died of kidney cancer a week after our son’s fourth birthday.

I’ve had my husband’s voice in my head since he died 5.5 years ago, advising me & telling me his thoughts on situations. It’s always been a happy, comforting, helpful experience.

BROCK: I’d order the caramel macchiato with an apple fritter.

Actually, I should clarify: it’s not his voice I hear, but rather echoes of memories, or associations. One day, I mixed manure into a flower bed, and “heard” Brock say I should add peat moss, to retain moisture. He’ll suggest I park closer to the loading zone, to be more efficient. Or he scolds me gently when I don’t take the time to coil the hose.

These echoes aren’t audible. They’re memories suffused with warm energy. I feel happy and loved. But this week, Brock’s voice was so loud I couldn’t think my own thoughts. It was a roar of energy: frenetic, like a tsunami in my head.

I started considering distance learning / homeschooling for our son’s grade five year, and suddenly Brock got excited.

BROCK: Let’s do it!

Hold on, I have to think this through…I tried to make my pros/cons lists, I tried consulting with friends and family and teachers, I Googled online schools and made a spreadsheet of what I liked and didn’t like, I emailed…

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