last grey cemetery day, last house door closing. asked “come with me if you want; ” tote bag big enough to slip inside, room set aside in suitcase.
at night, up late, looking over my shoulder as I try to write. words come hard now mostly stable. yet, sometimes, fingers fly over keyboard, writing idea not there before, never planned or prewritten. nudged by father, instead of turning lights on. things go missing, to be found in strange places, or not at all. mother at work again, making mischief, making difficulties.
feel them strongest in the chaos of attic. their new home among the detritus of our lives. bags of clothes, boxes of books and electronics, rolled up carpets, dismantled bicycles, lost dreams and hopes, and my parents.
sometimes I wonder was it fair, to have them come so far away. father from friends made since ’91. mother from her best friend, just up the hill a ways. away from open space of graveyard, from place they knew so well. to confinement in an attic in a foreign country, foreign space.
resolved, I will ask if they want to go home. if so, I will bring them there, release them from the tote bag. tidy up the tombstone, replace the trees on either side if necessary. and know where to find them always.
I’ve been feeling the same way lately. About my mom and Sandy. I know Sandy hasn’t left yet, I feel her here. I smell her. I tell her I’ll be ok if she wants to leave, but she knows I’m not ready. She isn’t around as much as she was in the beginning, but I still get signs now and then, usually when I break down. I want her to be happy…to move on if she needs….to be with my mom…until I can join them again.
(then I think…do I really believe that will happen? I simply do not know about the afterlife…things we cannot know.)
I think each one of us has our own soul, and our own set of beliefs about the afterlife; does it begin the moment of burial, or ccarry-on to some point. Do the spirts want to pass over, or to stay forever, to be a protector (or antagoniser) for awhilel I’ve seen and experienced both.
It’s true — unless we’ve been pulled back from a brush with entry into the after life, or watched someone pass on — it’s hard to discribe, , or understand the raw emotion, the fear, the peace, the calm.
I do believe that a part of those that have passed, can if they chose, follow you. How they epress is hard; will it be a soft nudge, a lecture, a hug? Time will tell.
Thanks for sharing your understanding your view and your seense that Sandy is still there trying to consol you — knowing you need her love and furry compansionship now as even more than ever. Please call to talk anytime you need to — I think you hav my phone #.
Take good care, and hugs (((((hugssss)))) furlor!
My dear I would call to talk, but I can’t hear on the phone.
Maybe after I get used to the Cochlear Implant…after I get it…I will be able to, but I know it won’t be right away. Heck they don’t even turn it on for 2 weeks after you get it. I should be getting mine the second or third week of June…crossing fingers here.
maybe we can talk soon.
wendy
sorry — that was awful of me! If anything, I should have remembered that it would be a problem. I’m so sorry, I really do feel bad when I make those kinds of faux pas — which I do regularly. I feel like I’m insensitive, or something. Please accept my apology. I’m going to email you too.
Let’s say, then, you can always email me if you want to vent, or “chat”
so let’s just say “talk” in the form of “chatting” through email or comments.