Hi my name is Joseph Morello. I’m eighty-seven years old and it is almost my time to pass. There isn’t much that I can say about myself other than I have lived a fulfilling life, and now I long for more than just the things that come along with old age. I’ve made many friends and have traveled more than the average joe, but in the midst of it all I failed at one thing-a family.
I’ve accumulated a ghastly amount of money from a profession I’ll get in to in just a moment. There is also the trust fund my parents left me when they had long passed, and I have had no use for it. Now that I’m ready to pass on, there is no family left that I could give my money and property to. That is why I am writing this…I wouldn’t call it a memoir, but I’m writing this so the charity I’m donating the property and money to knows who I am.
One thing I always feared was being forgotten. I believe the only way to live forever is through the memory of others. Our family, friends, and the people we’ve encountered throughout our entire lives have a deep rooted connection based off experiences and the differences we made to one another. All of my friends have passed way before me, and I have no family. I don’t want to be forgotten.
You’re probably wondering as to why I didn’t have a family of my own. My previous profession was too demanding. I always received cases that took days to months to solve, and most of them weren’t in the States. It seemed like I was never rooted to one spot, and that made me feel a bit lonely no matter the people I had encountered.
I purchased my home here in Chicago when I turned thirty-five, but I can tell you that I haven’t spent much time here until I had my first stroke at eighty. After the stroke I could move around too much, and it messed with my memory a bit. I had to retire from my ghost hunting profession, and no it is not like ghost busters.
I would receive requests from families or individuals from all parts of the Earth. They called me the Exorcist of ghosts. People would write to me about moving furniture, things being thrown at them by an unseen force, and people actually seeing the poltergeist. My bag was always packed and ready to go to the next destination.
This profession paid quite a bit as well. So much that I created a website for myself where people can submit their questions or inquires about ghosts, hauntings, and any encounters they’ve had. Most continued to email me their personal concerns. But even with the site helping rule out bogus cases I still remained as busy as ever. The only issues I’ve ever encountered is a stubborn ghost not wanting to move on, finding the remains of said dead person, or the odd encounter with someone who has become possessed. Then I’d have to contact the Exorcist I kept on retainer.
My job is something not a lot of people respect, and I can respect that; however, if they knew the money in it they would think differently. There are many of us out there, and I am hoping that this would be shared at charity events and with the pancreatic cancer patients that I’m helping support. One reason is to build awareness in hopes of having more people join the profession as many of us are now gone, and for those who will pass away to make sure they have no regrets that’ll keep them in this world. We are meant to move on after death.
With great regards,
“I’m supposed to read this in front of a hundred people at the charity event!” exclaimed Clarissa. She couldn’t believe what she had read.
Her boss, Steven Gloss, gave her a stern look before replying, “Yes. He donated and gave us everything to help with the research costs for those with pancreatic cancer. The very facility you stand in now use to be his home. He donated this property to us, and it is now one of the best hospices for patients with cancer. If you won’t read it, then I’ll have to find someone else to bestow this honor upon.”
“Alright. I’ll do it.” She replied.
“Great!” said the ghost standing behind Steven. No one was able to see him other than Steven, the founder of the pancreatic cancer charity.
After Clarissa left, Steven turned to the ghost and smiled.
“You almost blew out my eardrum.”
“Sorry about that. I’m just excited someone is going to read my statement. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and now I can finally move on from this world,” Joe stated.
“Will you stick around long enough to see the speech?” asked Steven. He had grown used to the old ghost of Joe.
“Damn straight! Then you’ll be rid of me,” he grinned.
“Well you’ll definitely be missed my friend.”
Image: Chicago Sun Times