Despite my aversion to most major holidays, I actually like this time of the year, the whole season of Halloween and Dia de los Muertos, when the veil thins.
My dad was not a subtle person in life. Nor is he a subtle spirit from the other side. After dinner with my friends on my 49th birthday, I got in my Mustang and headed for home. I was singing in a band at the time and our guitar player was named Ray. Ray was also my dad’s name. Our guitar player didn’t know if would make it to practice because his daughter was coming to town and Ray was supposed to send a group text update. I pulled up at Lakeline Blvd to the red light and I looked at the passenger seat. I spoke to the emptiness and told my dad I wished he was here riding in the Mustang beside me on my birthday. This is when my phone dinged. It was a text from our guitar player. The banner across the top of my phone said “Ray: I just heard from my daughter”….
My dad and I had a shitty relationship when he was here. Now we are closer than ever.
I met a boy in my Drivers Ed class, back in the misty days of the mid-80's. His name was Thomas, and to say he was the opposite of my geeky, chubby, unsure self would be an understatement. He looked much older than the rest of us, and wore concert tshirts for bands my parents would have strenuously objected to. But he was kind to me. And when sometime shortly later, he was killed in a car accident, I was genuinely sad.
Late one night, I was awoken by a cold wind rushing over my bed. I couldn't find a source for the wind but something told me it was him. I whispered to the dark room, "it's ok, I'm not afraid". When there was no answer or wind following, I went back to sleep. Two days later, I was sitting on the floor cleaning my closet, listening to my favorite Duran Duran cassette, and turned to find Thomas leaning against the doorway to my room, arms folded across his chest. Just there. I asked "why are you here?", and "why me?", but he didn't answer. He stood up from his lean, said "I can't listen to this shit", and he was gone. Considering was buried with a carton of cigarettes and an Ozzy Osbourne cassette, I have to guess he was referring to my choice of music. I never saw him again.
I told my tale to a friend's Scottish mother, who told me he likely came to me as I was likely to "accept" him, and he wouldn't have been able to answer any questions. I hope he found his rest after our visit.
My Dad told me once, after dementia has started to soften his mind, that people would come to him at night. They weren't there to scare him. I told him maybe they were just lonely and needed someone to see them. He just said, "maybe so", and went to the next subject.
I had that exact same book (likely also purchased at a school book fair)! I was so into the occult and read everything I could find in my elementary school library about witches. No spell books dammit. I think I passed that book to my youngest kiddo, for whom I also gifted tarot cards for Christmas last year.
Oh good! Thanks for forwarding it. I sure do miss him. I had a future appointment on the books with him when he died. Truly one of the most fascinating people I have ever met in my life.
My late friend Fred was constantly in my dreams from his death in 2018 until recently. But the recently was him coming up to me and tipping a Magritte-like hat, telling me had to go on and do other things. But then I was worried about something in my sleep last week, and I could hear him trying to give me loud advice from another room. (Which he always did -- I was a project!). I ran around the corner, and suddenly I was in his old office, and he was asleep on the couch in his suit, his shoes kicked off. Then I remembered he was sick (he had ALS). But then I woke up and remembered he had passed.
How very vivid! You might recall I had a really vivid, brief dream about my violent abusive first ex-husband in January. It was so vivid I googled him and found out he was dead. What a relief. He hasn’t visited again. Also a relief.
My dad was not a subtle person in life. Nor is he a subtle spirit from the other side. After dinner with my friends on my 49th birthday, I got in my Mustang and headed for home. I was singing in a band at the time and our guitar player was named Ray. Ray was also my dad’s name. Our guitar player didn’t know if would make it to practice because his daughter was coming to town and Ray was supposed to send a group text update. I pulled up at Lakeline Blvd to the red light and I looked at the passenger seat. I spoke to the emptiness and told my dad I wished he was here riding in the Mustang beside me on my birthday. This is when my phone dinged. It was a text from our guitar player. The banner across the top of my phone said “Ray: I just heard from my daughter”….
My dad and I had a shitty relationship when he was here. Now we are closer than ever.
I’m glad you found a way to make some peace with him. That is a crazy story about the text.
“…..preferring to let the mystery be.” THAT sounds fantastic. I will say those quoted words to myself each time I need to do that. Wow!!
It’s a lyric that really has stuck with me. ❤️
I met a boy in my Drivers Ed class, back in the misty days of the mid-80's. His name was Thomas, and to say he was the opposite of my geeky, chubby, unsure self would be an understatement. He looked much older than the rest of us, and wore concert tshirts for bands my parents would have strenuously objected to. But he was kind to me. And when sometime shortly later, he was killed in a car accident, I was genuinely sad.
Late one night, I was awoken by a cold wind rushing over my bed. I couldn't find a source for the wind but something told me it was him. I whispered to the dark room, "it's ok, I'm not afraid". When there was no answer or wind following, I went back to sleep. Two days later, I was sitting on the floor cleaning my closet, listening to my favorite Duran Duran cassette, and turned to find Thomas leaning against the doorway to my room, arms folded across his chest. Just there. I asked "why are you here?", and "why me?", but he didn't answer. He stood up from his lean, said "I can't listen to this shit", and he was gone. Considering was buried with a carton of cigarettes and an Ozzy Osbourne cassette, I have to guess he was referring to my choice of music. I never saw him again.
I told my tale to a friend's Scottish mother, who told me he likely came to me as I was likely to "accept" him, and he wouldn't have been able to answer any questions. I hope he found his rest after our visit.
My Dad told me once, after dementia has started to soften his mind, that people would come to him at night. They weren't there to scare him. I told him maybe they were just lonely and needed someone to see them. He just said, "maybe so", and went to the next subject.
Ah, so you know exactly what I’m talking about. So strange, these visits. But I welcome them.
I had that exact same book (likely also purchased at a school book fair)! I was so into the occult and read everything I could find in my elementary school library about witches. No spell books dammit. I think I passed that book to my youngest kiddo, for whom I also gifted tarot cards for Christmas last year.
What an excellent gift!
Also, a great friend of mine was very close to Bobby, and I will forward her this!
Oh good! Thanks for forwarding it. I sure do miss him. I had a future appointment on the books with him when he died. Truly one of the most fascinating people I have ever met in my life.
My late friend Fred was constantly in my dreams from his death in 2018 until recently. But the recently was him coming up to me and tipping a Magritte-like hat, telling me had to go on and do other things. But then I was worried about something in my sleep last week, and I could hear him trying to give me loud advice from another room. (Which he always did -- I was a project!). I ran around the corner, and suddenly I was in his old office, and he was asleep on the couch in his suit, his shoes kicked off. Then I remembered he was sick (he had ALS). But then I woke up and remembered he had passed.
How very vivid! You might recall I had a really vivid, brief dream about my violent abusive first ex-husband in January. It was so vivid I googled him and found out he was dead. What a relief. He hasn’t visited again. Also a relief.