Who do you wish you could see....that you really miss?--Al

-- Al Schroeder (al.schroeder@nashville.com), July 27, 2000

Answers

I wish that I could spend a few hours with my father. He and my mother divorced when I was 7 years old. We drove away from the house one day, and I never say him again. Never talked to him, never heard from him again. Naturally, that was 40 Plus years ago......

If I saw him again, I would just sit and listen. And if he didn't want to talk, I would just sit with him and watch the sun set. Just to occupy the same space for a heartbeat. To smell the same trees, and hear the same dog barking in the distance. Capture a moment like a black and white photograph cracked with age, corners bending in the humidity. Smiling faces and dusty shoes. A hand brushing the hair from the face......

-- Planet Earth (imagine@industrial-ideas.com), July 27, 2000.

I would want to see my grandmother again. She died when I was 14 and I'm almost 50 now. I think of her always. I have never known a woman as loving and kind and accepting as she was. All of us grandkids loved her and her house was always overrun with kids.

I felt that she was the only person in my entire life who ever stood up for me when there was need. I have always wished she could have seen my children, for she would have loved them and been so proud of them and of me.

All of my life I have felt her watching over me and I still miss her so much. I'm proud to have known her and I like to think a little of her lives in me.

-- Susan (skgrime@im3.com), July 27, 2000.

I wish I could see my Mom who died at the of forty, never seeing her devoutly wished for grand child. I wish I could take her around to all their houses and let her visit with her grown grand children and cuddle our baby great grand children. She would have loved them so.

-- Denver doug (ionoi@webtv.net), July 27, 2000.

It depends. Of course I want to see my kids again. But the thought of seeing them again, knowing that it would only be briefly and that I could only see them once would be too painful. It was bad enough saying goodbye once. Saying goodbye twice would be more than I could bear. However, I've been watching A&E lately, since I"ve been laid up with a bum foot. The "Actor's Studio" asks its guests the same list of questions, the last of which is "When you get to Heaven, what do you want to hear God say?" My answer is always "Your kids are here and so anxious to see you..."

-- Bev Sykes (basykes@dcn.davis.ca.us), July 27, 2000.

My Grandparents are both 70 and still living independently. I think their the kindest and most insightful people in the world, but of course I'm biased. Life in the 40's is not history to me because their stories have painted a perfect picture in my head, stories or poverty and endurance, pride and compassion. My Grandma made my husband turn green by saying she couldn't wait to hold her first great grandbaby in her arms! She patted him on the back and said "but no pressure..."

-- AJ (joijoijoi@hotmail.com), July 27, 2000.

I wish I could have a couple of more days (although that would never be enough) to see a friend of mine from college, who died in a car accident at the end of our sophomore year. He was just a wonderful person, whose time on earth was tragically too short. I still think about him every day. I miss him a lot.

-- Lis (lis_beth76@yahoo.com), July 27, 2000.

I wish I could talk to Daddy. How many times have I talked to him, especially on my way to work (of course!). Making Osso Bucco (sp?) or spaghetti or "hash browns", giving us his opinions of the world and his job...the deal that was sure to come through (I feel so like him sometimes). Also, Francine. Grandparents always understand grandchildren better than parents, so it seems! Anne

-- Anne (ADucroquet@aol.com), July 28, 2000.

Anne, I think you're the most like Pop in some respects, even more than Dave (our brother)---and your current work reminds me a lot of Pop's. Which is not a bad thing, at all.--Al (or Bill, as she calls me.)

-- Al Schroeder (aschroeder@comdata.com), July 28, 2000.

I miss your Dad too. I can't tell you how many times I have picked up the phone to tell him about a great book that I just read. We shared a love for gruesome detective novels.

My father-in-law loved me unconditionally. Something my own father was unable to give me. It breaks my heart that he is not here to enjoy seeing his grandchildren grow up. They would have loved fishing with him and hearing his stories.

-- Terri Schroeder (davelaw@san.rr.com), July 28, 2000.

I wish I could see my Jane, my Bio-Mom's mother. She held me when I was just a few hours old, before I was whisked off to my new parents. She died unexpectedly the following summer. The first thing I would do was give her a big hug, and share with her the box of kleenex I'd bring with me.

I'd also love to see my Grandpa again. He died when I was 12, and I'd love to find out what he's been up to in that time. :)

-- Kelli Jelly Bean Juggler Jelly Bean (jellybean@dsl.telocity.com), July 31, 2000.

I just figured out who I would like to see again--my grandfather. He was in vaudeville and I have all his old scrapbooks, but I didn't even know he HAD scrapbooks until after he died, so I never got to hear any stores about his days on the stage and I would love to know the stories behind all these photos. It wouldn't be so difficult to have a visit with him and then say goodbye again.

-- Bev Sykes (basykes@dcn.davis.ca.us), July 31, 2000.

Let's see... I wish I could see the guy in college who had the crush on me, who started dating a heroin addict, and decided to try it with her, and died of an overdose... I'd say I was sorry I was such an ass, and didn't notice how he felt until it was too late.

Yikes, that was depressing. On a happier note, I'd like to see my grandparents, who live in Florida -- to far away for me to visit easily. And I have been wishing for years to see my old college boyfriend/best friend, but that wish is coming true -- he's visiting in two weeks.

-- Mary Ellen (sarcasticah@yahoo.com), July 31, 2000.

I wish I knew what all this is about. Perhaps it has something to do with you? Except I do not know who you are. If you would let me know, I would probably tell you who I miss so much.

-- Teresa (tessa@msn.com), March 15, 2002.