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This is what happened to Dottie: She visited family members in Michigan, then went into Canada to do research for her genealogy files. She's really into that. Thorough research means visiting libraries and going to old family cemeteries to check names and dates of birth and death on head stones.
One morning it was chilly enough that she put on her denim jacket and stuck her wallet in one pocket and her cell phone in the other. It warmed up as she walked around with her notebook, so she hung her jacket over a headstone, and when she was finished, got her jacket and drove 200 miles to the next town. Fishing around in the jacket pocket, she found her wallet, but the cell phone was gone. She thinks it fell out into the grass around the stone.
I imagine someone passing by at night and hearing a phone ring from a grave site! She didn't go back for it. She had forgotten her charger anyway. So why didn't she phone me collect? She didn't think about it. She didn't phone her son, father, or sister in California either. Maybe she needed to just get away from us all, but everyone was concerned and so happy when she returned, sounding refreshed.
You don't know how many people's lives you touch till you're gone. The night she returned, her little grand daughter insisted on sleeping with her, so she could make sure granny was still there. Her pet cat won't let her out of its sight, and has been glued to her legs since she returned. I phoned her just to hear her voice. Her sister had panicked and called hospitals to see if she was a patient. She'd better never do that to us again.   susil
