It always amazes me, the power of words. It’s often the most simple, strung together, that makes me want to be a better person. John Prine does this.

I was listening to his song, Hello in there. (If you haven’t heard it, I encourage you to listen.) He sings of the importance of connection, especially to older people. Those that we could so easily avoid. Ignore. And maybe it means so much to me because it’s not the first time that I’ve heard it.

Grandma Elsie phone sat at Petermeier’s Funeral Home. While waiting for the random ring, she would vacuum, dust — all the random chores of a normal household — normal but for the dead body often resting in the parlor. It was exciting to be babysat along with the phone. It was always an adventure. This exotic world. Windows draped in velvet. Organ music on replay. And fears of the unknown faced in every corner. But Grandma Elsie was never afraid. She scooted in and out of every room. At first, I thought she was singing while she vacuumed, but she was in conversation, with the corpse — and she would have never called them that, no, she always called them by name.

I stood at the parlor entry. Not wanting to get too close. I thought my Grandma was the bravest person that I knew. “Do you think she can hear you?” I shouted over the vacuum motor. “What?” She laughed. She turned off the vacuum, pulled in the cord, and wheeled it towards me in the safety zone. “I don’t need to be sure,” she said and smiled. “Go say hello,” she said, and went to put away the vacuum. I inched my way around the walls to the front of the room. My head didn’t yet reach above the casket. I put my hand on the side. My chubby, shaking hand. Grandma said her name was Gladys. I stood beside her wooden box. I loved my grandma. I thought in the doorway that I wanted to be brave just like her, but standing next to Gladys, I knew it was more than that, I wanted to be kind. Without the need for certainty or favor, Grandma was kind. I gave a tiny knock to the side of the casket and whispered, “Hello in there,” and ran upstairs to the comfort of the apron that turned no one away.