Trade Me Tragedies

My wife, of 13 years, passed away September 9, 2001. The cancer slowly ate her alive and I had to sit back and watch it leach off of my reason to live. God was merciless but she fought every step of the way. Some part of me registered the resigned look in her eyes towards the end but it didn't make anything easier.

I would of ended it right then if TMT hadn't gotten ahold of me the next day. At first I figured they were another blood thirsty bill collector but the odd voice on the end of the line cleared that up right away. It told me what TMT stood for, in a genderless tone, and what I had to do. My first reaction to the call was disgusted anger and disbelief but my desperation got the better of me.

My instructions were to text a clear and simple wish to the 800 number provided, pretty simple. Once the message was carefully worded and double checked for spelling errors, I sent it. After that, I felt the urge to laughed at myself for believing in the stupidy of it all. My wish was just that, a want for something that cannot happen.

The next morning was worst than the first. As soon as my brain was able to comprehend thought, she came to mind; accompanied by a terrible emptiness. Muted murmurs from the 11am news filled room and the familiar sensation of tears greeted my cheeks when I sat up in bed.

"Oh good you're up, look what's happening in New York!"

My heart dropped to my toes and my head whipped around at a break neck pace. My vision fell upon one of the most amazing sites of my life. She sat there in her silky grey pajamas with a sullen look fixed on her face. I attempted to ask how she was even there but a stutter caught the words in my throat.

"Those famous towers collapsed a little bit ago. So many are dead. I mean, Can you imagine? All those poor people..." She changed the channel as if for emphasis.

Before I could even put two and two together, a new message lit up my phone.

"Your request has been completed. Thank you for using TradeMeTragedies."

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