The Secret

Summary

The website content is a personal essay detailing the author's emotional attachment to a voicemail from his late brother, which serves as a cherished keepsake amidst the grief of his loss.

Abstract

The author shares a deeply personal story about a secret he has kept on his phone for four years: a voicemail from his brother who passed away in 2019 after a battle with prostate cancer. Despite the potential unhealthiness of holding onto this digital memento, the author finds comfort in being able to hear his brother's voice, which helps him cope with the loss. He recounts a childhood incident where he narrowly escaped death, emphasizing the profound impact of his brother's death on him. The essay concludes with the author's decision to keep the voicemail and consider creating a backup, acknowledging that it's a way to keep a part of his brother with him. Additionally, the author invites readers to explore his other works and follow him on social media.

Opinions

The author believes that the voicemail, while just a simple recording, holds significant emotional value as it is the only personal thing he has from his brother that he can easily access.
He expresses a sense of panic at the thought of losing this one connection to his brother, indicating the intense emotional bond he has with the voicemail.
The author reflects on the nature of grief, noting that it can be unexpected and overwhelming, even months or years after a loss.
He shares a personal anecdote to draw a parallel between the physical impact of a childhood accident and the emotional impact of his brother's death, suggesting a deep understanding of loss and mortality.
Despite acknowledging that keeping the voicemail might prevent him from fully moving on, the author seems to prioritize the comfort and connection it provides over the potential drawbacks of holding onto it.

A Poem About a Secret On My Phone

I’ve got a secret on my phone I’ve not told anyone about Something I’ve been holding on to for 4 years now It’s not a big deal, nothing scandalous or illegal Just a secret I have kept for myself

My secret is a voicemail from 2017 Every once in a while I’ll clean up all the voicemails I’ve received Over the past few months And delete them all except this one And I always take the time to listen to it To hear my brother’s voice once again

He’s been gone now since 2019 A hard-fought battle with prostate cancer That he didn’t win

And oh how I miss him.

Listening to his voice Makes me feel for a moment That he’s still around and just a phone call away

Maybe this false hope isn’t healthy Maybe I should just delete it and let it go But every time I think about it I feel a bolt of panic It’s really the only personal thing I have from him The only thing I can easily access and feel him I struggle with my emotions just considering Losing that one connection

The grief of his passing goes away for months at a stretch I don’t even think about it most of the time But every now and then it reaches up And smacks me in the face

I know a thing or two about being smacked in the face No, I didn’t come from an abusive home In fact, it was quite idyllic Parents who loved me and did the best they could To make me feel that I mattered to them They weren’t perfect Mom liked to lay a guilt trip on you as motivation, Once in a while And Dad sometimes used his belt as motivation But I always knew they loved me, loved all of us, As best as they could

But my dad did almost kill me once With an 8-foot X 4-inch pipe, a large tire, and the bumper of an old Corvair That pipe, with the force of a fulcrum Should have taken my head off completely But instead, my Roman nose passed down to me from my mother Took the brunt of the crushing blow Acting as a shock absorber Protecting me from certain death

Instead, I got the quickest And least expensive nose job In all of California that day The doctor told us It would have killed me If it had been two inches Higher or lower than My once-Roman nose

So when I say that my brother’s passing (The one who still had the Roman nose) Sometimes smacks me in the face I feel like I know what I’m talking about

When the tears come rushing in From out of nowhere It takes a bit to Regain my composure Much like my father, kneeling over me Reforming my crushed nose back together

Forty-years later, He still tells me how sorry he is A complete accident, but he thought he killed me

I have a secret on my phone I think I’ll keep it around for a while I’ve even given some thought to making a backup Just in case It’s nice to hear his voice from time to time Even though I know I will never hear it again, in-person

Photo Credit, Matt Ray, My secret, a voicemail from my brother Walt

Thank you for reading my poem. If you’re interested in other articles or poetry I have written, here are a few. Also, I would love it if you followed me here and on social media.

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