Voicemail

It always jars me when I call J.J.'s work number and get his voicemail. You see, the whole six months he was out, they left his voicemail greeting alone. Since J.J. never recorded a personal greeting on his cell phone voicemail, it's one of the last recordings we have of how he sounded pre-stroke.

His voice sounds so loud on that recording, so forceful. He sounds like he's spitting the words out in a huge hurry, like taking the time to set up his voicemail is a bother. (He also makes one of my least favorite voicemail gaffs..."You've reached J.J. Robertson's desk," it says. Leading me to congratulate J.J. on having such a smart desk...I wish my desk would take messages!)

He sounds nothing at all like the J.J. I know now. My J.J. is a soft-spoken man whose words are carefully selected and uttered with complete focus and concentration. He may not say as much anymore, but you know everything he says is special. It takes too much effort for him to engage in idle chatter. And when he forgets a word, he smiles and shrugs so sweetly. He's not upset by the word that got away, he's just thrilled about all the ones he managed to find.

He's different. Life's different. And it's good; maybe even better than pre-stroke, because we remember to live it now.

Once again tonight, I'm not going to get the post written about the big one year anniversary. I'm tired tonight and I want to get to bed before too long. Tomorrow will be a big day, though. Look for explanation tomorrow evening.