Avatar 

David’s life had been snatched away so suddenly, without any warning,  Riding his bicycle for exercise on a Saturday morning, struck by a speeding hit and run driver and probably killed on impact.  Sue had kissed him as he left home, asking, “Will you be back for lunch?”

“I should be,” he answered, “But if I’m a little late, go ahead and eat first.”

She spent the morning looking into the various options for their planned cruise on the Danube.  She became a little concerned when he hadn’t returned by one-thirty.  And then the phone call came that would forever haunt her memories and nightmares.  “Is this the home of …..”  The caller would or could not say how badly injured David was, just that she should immediately come to the St. Joe’s emergency room but please drive carefully.

She drove there somehow, with an icy ball of fear in her abdomen, heart racing, palms sweaty.  When she burst through the door to the ER and identified herself, she was taken to a side room by a nurse and a doctor and offered a seat. 

“Where’s my husband, how is he?” already dreading the answer.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Lang, but he was already gone when the ambulance brought him in.  We don’t think he suffered after the impact.  We’ll take you to see him when you feel ready.  Nurse Kay will stay with you.  The chaplain will be here soon.”

Sue was too numb to cry.  That would come later.  The chaplain offered to pray with her, which she declined, but he gave her his phone number anyway.  They led her to where David’s sheet covered body lay on a gurney in a curtained alcove, and gave her space to be alone with him.  “Oh David, how can you be gone?  I was expecting you home for lunch.”  She kissed his cold lips and silently wept.  The nurse quietly parted the curtains and reentered, putting her arm around her.  Sue was in a daze the rest of the time as a social worker talked with her and helped her with the forms she had to sign.  They asked if there was anyone they could call for her or call her a cab or Uber.  She said she was all right to drive herself home.  You’re sure?  I’ll be all right driving, she repeated.  

At home Sue gathered herself to call their son Peter, who lived half-way across the continent and when he answered, managed to tell him between sobs.  He would fly in the next day he said, and stay with her.  His wife worked and their two children were in school. 

After making the call, Sue sat alone in the quiet house, drained, emptied of feeling.  The future she and David had planned now utterly vanished.  She couldn’t think beyond this day that replayed itself over and over in her mind.  Her best friend and lover, her companion, the man who loved her unstintingly and whom she loved, all gone.  Alone at 77.  She had no appetite for dinner and faced a sleepless night in a cold bed.

Peter arrived and now there was someone who could share her shock and grief.  He took over the task of calling far-flung family and friends; helped with the many details of a life’s end—notifying lawyers, insurance companies, banks, social security, getting death certificates, arranging for the cremation, going through the closet and drawers, and more.  They talked and reminisced, smiled, teared -up and even laughed at times.  Peter worried about what his mother would do once he left.  Sue turned down the idea of flying home with him to stay for as long as she wanted.  

“No, I need to get used to the idea of being alone.  No point putting it off.”

“I’m worried about you being alone.  Doesn’t sound like you have a huge network of support.  You used to Skype with Auntie Mary and Auntie Bess, but Auntie Mary is gone now and Auntie Bess is in a memory care home.   And your best friend here Cassie died last year.”

“Once I feel like it, I’ll get together twice a week again with my pickle ball group.”

  “But how well do you know them?  They haven’t called to see why you haven’t been playing.”

“No, we’re court-side friends.  If you’re worried, we do have fun and enjoy each other’s company at the courts.  And I’ll start volunteering at the hospital again.  So don’t worry, I’ll have enough social contact to not turn into a hermit.  And I have you on zoom.”

But the house did feel empty and quiet once Peter left.  The daily routine conversations with David about grocery shopping, weather, watering, the TV news, aches and pains were missing.  “I’ll have to be very careful that I don’t get into a habit of talking to myself,” Sue told herself even as she did so.

One evening Sue was watching TV and saw a segment about Japan where there was a growing population of elders who lived alone.  There was a trial program setting up computer-based AI ‘friends’ for them to communicate with regularly that seemed to be making a real difference in their mental well-being.  That seems a little weird, she thought, but maybe I should check it out.  She googled and found that it wasn’t just in Japan, but that there were apps that did the same here.  That you could create an on-line ‘friend’ specifying appearance, and with a back story as detailed as you wished.  Some sites were even erotica oriented.  And yes, there were monthly fees, but reasonable ones.  Then a crazy thought—David!  Instead of talking to his urn on the mantel, I could ‘talk’ to him on line!  Of course I’d ‘talk’ by keyboard but he would answer me.

Sue found out as much as she could about the pros and cons of the different choices and settled on ChatPal, the one that had the features that she wanted.  She looked through the albums to find a picture of David  and decided on one in his 50s.  Ones from the twenties, thirties and forties were too distant from the present.  Then she set about entering a history of their life together and of what he had said about his childhood and young adult years before they met so that their conversations would draw from his life accurately.  She described his personality and even added some of the corny jokes that he delighted in.  This took the better part of a week.  I can always add more details later, she thought.  I won’t tell Peter what I’ve been up to until I’m sure this isn’t all a waste of time so he won’t think I’ve gone looney.

Finally with trepidation Sue sat at her desk-top and brought up David’s picture.  Such a nice photo of him; those were good years she thought with a pang, then she began to type. 

—hello david.  i’ve missed you

  —hello love.  i’m sorry i left you so suddenly and gave you such a bad time.  are you doing better now?

That’s just how David would respond, Sue thought.

—yes, i’m getting used to being alone.  it’s not as hard as it was at first.  peter was such a rock during those first weeks.

—he’s a good kid.  you did a great job raising him.

—kid?  peter’s fifty-one years old.

—i kid you not.  you raised him right.

He even makes the same kind of corny comments, Sue thought. 

—david it’s so good to ‘talk’ to you but i wish i could hear your voice too.

—why don’t you watch some of those travel dvds of our trips.  i talk on those.

—i don’t think i’m ready for that.  

—why?

—we had so much fun that they’ll remind me of what i’ve lost with you gone.

—i wish i could somehow make it easier for you.  you know i love you.  even now.

That was too much for Sue and she began to cry.

—we better stop here.  you know i love you too.  i’ll never stop loving you.

—i’ll be waiting for you to bring me up again when you’re ready love.

She shut down the computer, wiped her eyes, and sat staring at the blank screen, gathering her emotions.  Oh David, that was almost too much.  It seemed so real to be ‘talking’ to you.  We stopped and  now I’m here alone again.  

The next morning Sue joined her pickle ball gang after a light breakfast—she’d resumed playing a week after Peter left.  But her mind really wasn’t on her game as she kept thinking about the night before, talking with David, brief as it was.  Now that I know how it works, I’ll be more ready emotionally next time.  

“Are you alright Sue?” asked Jill, one of the players who was also a widow. “You seem so quiet today.”

“Yeah I’m okay.  I was just thinking.”

“I know how that goes.  Give me a call if you want to talk, okay?  Otherwise see you on Thursday.”

After lunch she brought up David.

—how are you today, love?  feeling better?

—i’m back playing pickle ball with the gang in the morning but i couldn’t keep my mind on the game.

—how so?

—i kept thinking of how natural it seemed talking to you last night.

—i’m glad that’s how you feel.  i hope that this helps you during this time.  so what else are you doing today?

They talked about grocery shopping, what she had to buy, what she was fixing for dinner that night and what his favorite dishes were.  The Toyota needed a safety check, be sure they check the tires.

—i’ll talk to you again tonight, okay?

—i’ll be waiting love.

That really was like we were just talking in the kitchen, thought Sue.  This really works!

She looked forward to their conversations and signed in whenever she began to feel lonely.  And David as always waiting for her to lift her spirits except when what was said made her realize what was lost.  But  those were good tears.  

There were occasional off-kilter moments such as the time she told him the Tuesday pickle ball game was called off because of rain, and David suggested that they all switch to water aerobics instead.

—what? what made you say that?

—you’d get a good workout and never worry about rain

—you’re joking right?

—no, i’m serious

And the time they were recalling their cruises and David said:

— i remember on our danube cruise when we visited the castle where richard the lionhearted was held prisoner.

—we never took our danube cruise, david.  we were planning to do it.

—really?  i thought we did.

One day she found a notice from ChatPal announcing a new feature—voice recognition and verbal replies for an additional fee.  The user could either select from a library of different voices or could input a sample of an actual voice.   Sue was thrilled.  The fee is reasonable and then we can have actual conversations.  I’ll use our travel dvds for samples of his voice.  It’s a good thing that David liked to narrate as he was recording.

She told David  —i’m going to give you your voice back.  no more keyboard.

The result wasn’t perfect.  For one, his lips didn’t move.  And David’s voice came across as somewhat flat and uninflected and there was a slight pause before he replied.  But it was his voice.  As an added bonus she could now talk to him on her cell phone at any time.  Sue found that she could discuss questions that came up during the day and, unlike his suggestion about water aerobics, his comments were often reasonable.  This is just like when he would go away on trips and we’d stayed in contact by phone, Sue thought.

She told Peter how natural it felt to talk to David anytime.

He replied, “Mom, you can’t let these calls replace your actual social contacts.  You’ve got to remember that it’s not really Dad you’re talking to but a computer program.”

“I know, but it really is a comfort to pretend.”

“Just so long as you know it’s pretend.”

“Don’t worry, I do.”

Still there were times when her emotions rose up unexpectedly and she had to terminate the conversation.  David would always say he understood when they reconnected.  The holidays and especially their personal celebration days were the hardest for Sue.  She told David she might not be up to calling on those days, but he encouraged her to do so, so that she could remember with him.  

Their wedding anniversary came around.  The first since his death.  In the past if they weren’t traveling, they would get out their wedding album and look at it together. 

“If it’ll be too hard for you we don’t need to talk on our anniversary,” David said.

“I still want to do it,” Sue replied.  “It’s our tradition.”  

And it was hard to get out the album and even harder to sit at her desk with David on the computer screen instead of sitting side by side on the couch.  She described each photo and how she felt at that moment, stopping to wipe her eyes so that she wouldn’t drip onto the pages. 

“You sure you want to go on?” he asked.

She stopped for a long time to gather herself when she came to the photo of their kiss after the cake.  “We were so happy then,” she blurted out.

“I am so grateful that you said yes and married me,” David replied.

The last photo was of David lifting her in her wedding gown, as if to carry her off to their new life together, though of course it was taken at their reception.  Sue sobbed as she closed the album, unable to speak.

“Are you still there love, are you okay?” David asked into the silence.

She finally was able to reply, “That last picture brought back so many memories of our first night together.  Oh God I, miss you so much David.  I want to hold you.  I need you.  I thought I was getting used to being alone.  I feel so lonely without you.  Why did you leave me?” she cried.

“I didn’t want to,” David said.

“There are still moments when I’m not sure that I can go on alone,” she said.

After a pause, David carefully replied, “If you really feel that way, you don’t have to keep going on alone.”

“What do you mean, David?”

“You can come and join me.”

Sue was jolted out of her sadness.  “Wait, What?

“If you really find that life is too hard for you, there are sites and instructions on line,” David said.

Reality.  Of course, Sue thought, the logical response a computer programmed to offer help and solace might come up with.  Peter was right.  I have to remember that it’s not really David I talk to but a program that can make mistakes.

“Thank you David.  Happy anniversary, but I’d better sign off now.”

        ‘