Do you believe? I do . . .
I see them all the time, but they don’t scare me anymore. I usually prefer to call them Spirits, but it doesn’t matter what you label them, they are dead to the living; well, to most they are dead.
My paternal grandmother died when I was very young. I must have been the age of ten, or eleven; I can’t remember. She and I had a special connection that I thought, at the time, to be no different than the one she shared with all her grandchildren, and children for that matter. Later in my life, probably ten to twelve years later, I asked my closest cousin if she ever saw ‘Granny’. She laughed at my inquiry, and replied, “I think of her often, what are you talking about, Ghosts?” Of course I traded laughter for my seriousness, and we moved onto something new. I asked my mom, in a much less forward question, and she said she just thinks of her often, especially when cleaning her kitchen sink, or something like that (My Gran fussed over the cleanliness of her kitchen, especially her sink.
She used to come to me all the time. I have often wondered why she didn’t appear to me until sometime after I graduated high school, but looking back I wonder if it had something to do with my readiness for such an occasion. Her death brought my heart immeasurable sadness, and I’m not sure I would have been as open to receiving her any earlier.
You’re thinking I’ve gone mad, aren’t you?
Gran used to visit during times of trial, but never interfered with the choices I made, or my faith with regard to the spiritual path I chose. She also visited on moments of great happiness, and celebration, such as the night Courtney was born. I know that when most of my memories fade there will be one that will remain forever clear as though it occurred only a few moments ago. Gran appeared to me the first night of motherhood and she cradled Courtney’s face in her hand, and tickled her feet, and yes… Courtney responded.
During the great changes of my woman’s life Gran was always there. When we left home, there were times I could feel her presence sitting the middle of the bench seat cheering me on. I never wondered how our relationship would have evolved, because she never left me. Until…
I thought at first it was my imagination, but it didn’t take long to realize that she’d just disappeared. Her disappearance coincided with the timeliness of my meeting my ex; Dan. At first, while we were dating she would still appear, though in brief flickering moments, but the closer he and I became, the less she appeared. I hoped it was because she gave me space, but now I have to wonder if she disapproved. Maybe she decided not to fight time with darkness.
After Courtney and I moved south and in with Dan, I looked for her, often. I made vigilant visits to a favored spot in a park near the Puget Sound hoping she would visit and brighten my existence with her glowing spirit, but she never came. I often wondered if my latest life choices had disappointed her in such a way that she couldn't bare to be a part of my life; her disappearance came about practically overnight after we moved.
He often joked, in the early days, that he was the devil himself. I guess if I made the decision to dance with the devil he’d won out and she wouldn’t fight my decision; she never has. What an awful thought, yes?
Earlier in the week I experienced ghosts of another kind. The ones that aren’t so kindly thought of, and in this case rebuked; the ghosts people experience when they have suffered loss of limb. While reading in bed Monday I felt the weight of his leg as it draped over me (we used to read in bed often and he’d wrap his leg around me and pull me into him.) Tuesday morning I felt his weight next to me in bed, and while cooking dinner one night I felt the sensation that used to wash over me when he’d walk up behind me and wrap his arms around my waste and nuzzle a kiss into the round of my neck.
After I kicked Dan to the curb, in October, I never experienced any notions of sadness or felt any great loss. I still haven’t cried, nor have I felt any pangs of regret. I wonder if these new arrival experiences are rising to the surface, now, because I’ve finally forged my way through the vortex of chaos that accompanied the abrupt change in my sojourns direction. I pray not… He is the last person that has earned the privilege of my time, especially my emotional time.
It's a perfect morning for writing. The darkness has reclaimed the Puget Sound region for today, though the sun hasn't risen to show evidence I can hear the spitter, spat, of the rain on the windows. It's going to be a great day, I just hope I have enough candles to last through this desire to write.
I hope my Gran reappears at some point in my life. However, I have considered that she may have simply moved on to a different realm to continue her ascent… Maybe her disappearance had nothing at all to do with the decisions I made for my life….
Maybe.
Maybe.
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