A HALLOWEEN VISIT - FROM THE OTHER SIDE

It's Halloween morning and I just woke up - in tears. I dreamed about her: She came to me in my dreams this Halloween morning - her favorite holiday! I got to SEE her. I got to hear her VOICE! I got to HUG her! My Baby Girl! My Christina!

In the dream, I had been looking for her and had somehow found her - a phone number. I called her. She told me where she was (Florida??) and told me that although she could not come home, that I could come to her...but it would be risky. She was being held, somewhat against her will. She said she was well-cared for, but that it came at a hefty price: she could not leave. So I went to her.

I found her living in a very nice apartment. She looked good. She hugged me, and it felt so good to hug her back; I didn't want to let go. We visited and she told me about her new life: A man was keeping her there. He treated her well, but kept her from leaving. And she had to manage others that he was keeping...others who were often trouble-makers. Drugs?? Illegal behaviors?? But she did it. She had no choice. She could not return. I wanted to stay. I didn't want to leave her there.

The man (boyfriend?) came home. He was young, attractive, but as crafty, powerful, and manipulative as he was charming. He treated me with respect and told me I could stay - but that if I stayed, I would not ever be able to return to the rest of the family. I worried about Ada. Christina told me I should go back home - and to not worry. I didn't want to stay, but I didn't want to leave. I just wanted to take her back home with me. But I couldn't. I HAD to leave. And so I did. I thought I could perhaps find a way to rescue her, but it seemed impossible. We couldn't talk on the phone because he would KNOW; he would find out, and then I'd never see her again.

As I was trying to find my way back home, I changed my mind: I decided to go back to her. But then I couldn't. I couldn't find my way back. I was asking people on the street for directions, but the directions I got were conflicting - and I got the impression the people were intentionally mis-directing me; they were not to be trusted.

I woke up in tears - LOTS of tears. It's what I've needed to do, these past 29 months. I've needed to cry. I've needed to sob uncontrollably. And that's exactly what I did. I miss her. It hurts. But, even if just in my dreams, I got to be with her. I got to see her. I got to hear her voice. And I got to HUG her!

DAWN IS A FEELING

Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight,
Red is gray and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?
Pinprick holes in a colourless sky,
Let insipid figures of light pass by,
The mighty light of ten thousand suns,
Challenges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some a brief interlude,
To others the fear of solitude.
Brave Helios wake up your steads,
Bring the warmth the countryside needs. 


It's been a long, dark night but I think I finally see light emerging on the horizon of my life.

It's been over 2 years since the darkness of night fell upon me. That Morning - when Christina died - I was thrust into a darkness that I had never experienced before: a dark night of the soul. I've been wandering around in the dark, alone, in a foreign land.

Since That Morning, I have often stated that when Christina died, she took a part of me with her. More specifically, I felt like she took my spiritual self with her. Prior to losing Christina, I was a spiritual person. In fact, from my earliest years I have been spiritually aware. But when she died, that all seemed to change. That day - from the moment we released her from that noose until 18 hours later when the coroner took her - I looked for her...for her Spirit. I remember I kept lifting her eyelids and looking into her eyes - looking for her - but she was not there. Her body was empty. She was gone. But gone where?? As a mother, I needed desperately to know where she had gone.

Spiritually, and at a very deep subconscious level, I expected to be able to sense her presence. I remember looking up to the ceiling as if I would see her spirit floating above us; I saw and sensed nothing. And I think that is when my beliefs in an afterlife began to deflate: Christina was dead. No part of her remained. She was simply...gone.

Still, I continued to look for her. I spoke to her via the Tarot the day or so after her funeral - and it seemed like perhaps she responded, but there was no "magical" feeling of her presence. I needed more. I needed proof that she still existed.

I remembered her promise to me and Mary: "Well all I know is that if I die before any of you, and it's possible to communicate with the living from the other side, you can be sure I will haunt all of you!" That's what she said. Just weeks before she left us, she said that to Mary and I while we were discussing the paranormal; we all agreed to do the same. I began to hold her to her promise and over these past two years, I have both begged her and dared her to haunt me! But she has not. Nothing.

It's been a long, dark, night.

In desperation, I got a Ouiji board and once again begged and dared her to make herself known. But she did not. I got nothing.

My jaded pessimism deepened. I felt ripped off: Religion and spirituality are simply the lies we tell ourselves to make things like death more palatable. "Your baby girl is in Heaven now, looking down upon you, watching over you." Oh yeah? Prove it! "She's in a better place." Really? And where exactly might that be? "God needed her more than we did." GOD needed her more than her KIDS needed her?? THAT's fucked up!

I expected to experience Death in a more spiritually profound way, prior to losing Christina. I expected Death to be as deeply profound as Birth. I expected to feel it in my soul. When Christina died, I experienced it emotionally; it hurt like hell; but I didn't feel it spiritually, supernaturally, or paranormally - and that is why I felt so abandoned and betrayed by my former spiritual beliefs.

Yesterday however, a glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. Yesterday, I was brought to a realization that I DID sense her Spirit Energy when she died. And Stone did too. We felt it That Morning. We just didn't know it at the time.

That Morning. The morning she died. That morning there was a 40 minute window of time that passed from the moment we last saw her alive to the moment we discovered her lifeless body. And it was during those 40 minutes that we sensed her presence without realizing that's what it was we were feeling. It was during those 40 minutes when Stone was sitting in his room and I was sitting in my room with Ada that we both experienced what we have described as the loudest quiet we had ever heard. We both struggled with the heavy feeling that "something" was different. There was a feeling, an energy, an urging to get up and go to her...always coupled by the logically retort of "no, she'll be fine." We both wrestled with the need to get up and go to her but at the same time, we were both immobilized, unable to move. I now believe what we felt that morning was Christina. Her spiritual energy loomed over us and around us. She was there. We felt her presence. We just didn't recognize her. Maybe we knew. Maybe we didn't WANT to know. But we felt her. She didn't die in the hospital while on life support; she died hanging from that damn beam. Her spirit wasn't in the hospital; her spirit lingered in the house with us, with her kids. And THAT is why Ada asked Brian about Cheryl That Morning before Brian found Christina: Cheryl was there too that morning...

Realizing all of this has brought with it a glimmer of light; my Dark Night is coming to an end. We ARE more than just physical bodies: at our core, we are spiritual energy - very loud silent energies. And that energy survives the death of the body. The body may die, but the spirit is eternal. And for that, I am truly grateful.

WHAT LITTLE REMAINS

In the nearly two years since my Christina died, I have so often stated that since her death I feel a spiritual void. Life has lost its magical qualities. I have become jaded and my hypervigilence keeps me in a state of fearful anticipation of Life's worst possible outcomes. Optimism has been uprooted and skepticism has taken its place.

Yet, every once in awhile, I notice my former ability to see Life with wonder shine through. What happened today is an example. Yesterday, Brian took Christina's little Ada with him while he did some errands. While they were out, they got some flowers and brought them to the cemetery for both Christina and Cheryl. Ada handles the experience in a matter-of-fact way. But then today, she found a black feather outside which really excited her. SHE sees the magic in Nature. Full of ecstasy with her new feather, she showed it to me, beaming with delight. And then MY former magical way of thinking kicked in: Was that feather a gift from Mommy to daughter? Christina loved black feathers! And I told Ada, "Maybe it was a special present from Mommy!" Her face lit up even more; she agreed, seeing the magic.

True, my skepticism kicked in automatically, after stating my intuitive observation: No. It's just a feather. Most likely evidence that a feral cat caught lunch in a nearby nest. And then the magic dissipated. It's just a feather. Christina is gone. She can't send gifts. But did I sense her presence, even for just that one magical moment?

Someone suggested that I should simply begin to act "as if." Act as if my faith still existed. Read the cards again. Look for the magic in life and tell my skepticism to shut the fuck up. Stop listening to those daunting-yet-rational voices in my head. But I can't. Not yet. I continue to obsessively watch all those silly paranormal shows, wanting proof, but finding none. And let's face it: If there WERE proof, it would've been discovered long ago. Still, I want it. I want evidence. I want to know where she is.

I think of that promise she made, only a month or two before she died. She promised if she died before any of us, and if she could reach us from "the other side," she would. In fact, she said if it were possible, she would haunt the hell out of us! So why hasn't she? Is it because she still exists but communication from the other side is not possible? Or is it because she no longer exists? THAT is the question that torments me.

In my former, more spiritual days, I would have been relatively certain that she, like all people who have passed, still exists. My relative certainty was enough; I didn't need more than that. I knew it was speculation, but I accepted that some things are unknowable. I would've believed that the dead sometimes remain connected to the living (hauntings), but that most move on to a reincarnated life. I still believe that reincarnation is the most likely after-death experience. And I still believe that hauntings are possible. I am open to the possibility. Hopeful even. And that vague suspicion is adequate when I think of those who have passed in general; but it is not adequate when I think of Christina. Christina was my daughter and the mom in me needs to know where/if she is.

So I continue to beg her to haunt me. But not with feathers that can be easily explained away. I want something profound to happen: I want to see her, hear her voice, feel her touch. I want her to move something right before my eyes. I want something to happen that I cannot explain or rationalize. But so far, that has not happened. So far, it has all been bird feathers. No mystery. No unexplainable, irrefutable experiences. I don't care if it scares me; I don't care if it makes me cry. I just want her to reach out and haunt me.

DISCLAIMER

I've been thinking about my lifelong history of writing and specifically, about all the times I was interrogated about my written accounts. I've been asked to qualify, explain, and even retract words I have written. And so, I feel I must add a formal disclaimer so that my readers will fully understand the context in which I write.

My written essays are based on my thoughts and feelings at that given moment in which an essay was composed. It is important for the reader to understand that my thoughts and feelings belong to me and I share them for others to consider. Yet, the reader must understand that even words are often inadequate. As they are read by the reader, the reader injects verbal intonations - which may or may not echo my own. Written words are tricky that way.

Because my written words represent my thoughts and feelings in a specific time, they may not remain forever true; thoughts and feelings change. Keep this in mind.

As Steven Tyler lyrically pointed out, "Life's a journey, not a destination." My words reflect my journey and therefore reflect where I am at a given time. While some of my thoughts and feelings remain relatively constant throughout the journey, some do not.

I remember getting into quite a bit of trouble for having written that I had "slept with my boyfriend." I was only thirteen. The parents demanded an explanation. Yes, I had slept with him...as in "we took a nap together in the same bed." Imagine their laughter when they realized their erroneous interpretation of my words. Imagine my humiliation.

So perhaps it is the fear of future humiliation that I post this disclaimer. I am mortal and will not always be here to qualify, quantify, and otherwise explain what I have written. But my words will linger. Because I will not always be here to defend what I have written, I place this disclaimer: You, the reader, may not always fully understand what I have written. You, the reader, may not always comprehend the context in which I composed an essay. You, the reader, may not have known me well enough to formulate an accurate conclusion about who I am or the thoughts and feelings I once possessed.

As my children and I are quick to point out: Don't jump to conclusions!!

ETERNALLY TWENTY-THREE

Today she would've been twenty-five. Instead, she remains twenty-three. Forever twenty-three. Life has not stood still and the rest of us continue to age, without her. It's simple and incomprehensible all at the same time. Paradoxical.

Less than two years since her departure and still I wrestle with the unsolvable mystery of it all. Who was she? Why was her life destined to be so short? Was it destiny, or was it preventable? Was it premeditated or was it impulsive? Did she leave as an act of selfless love to spare her kids the inevitable trauma of growing up with a borderlined, bipolar mother? Or did she leave in spite of her kids? And who can I blame? Can I blame the people she called friends? Can I blame genetics for having assaulted her from both sides? Can I blame myself for being so unaware, so self-absorbed, so medicated all her life? Or, is there some sort of lifescript that we must all succumb to? Was it, in fact, the final chapter in Christina's lifescript to take her own life?

Today, my tears are fresh, but sharp like shards of broken glass. I cry the tears I held so tightly in those minutes, hours, days, and weeks after she died. I was in shock and I was in denial. The paradoxical blending of disbelief and acknowledgement tightly wrapped in trauma kept me in a state of other-worldness. I...had become...comfortably numb. But today, Monday, January 7, 2013, what would've been her 25th birthday, the psychic anesthesia has worn off and I cry for her. I want her back. I want this craziness to be over. I want to wake from this nightmare. I want her to be alive again and I want to make her let us love her. Why wouldn't / couldn't she let us in?

Today, she would've been twenty-five. But she's not. Instead, she is now my twenty-five year old twenty-three year old daughter.

Why, Christina? WHY???

LIVIN' ON THE EDGE

After what happened in Newtown, Connecticut on Friday, December 14, 2012, I believe we are livin' on the edge. Change is inevitable; our nation has been shaken - but will we wake up? It seems to me we will go in either of two possible directions.

If we are smart and begin to apply all that we know, we will make two critical changes. First, we will begin to educate the public about mental health and mental illness and we will begin to educate the public about warning signs that indicate potential mental health emergencies. We will speak boldly about the often preventable causes of mental illness and we will stop creating the situations that cause extreme psychological unhappiness. That means we will no longer value and glamorize violence. Hurtful behavior will be defined and will be heavily frowned upon. Mental health services will become more readily available. Emergency mental health centers will be available in all communities, just as medical emergency rooms are readily available. And we will use these services as a gateway to recovery and health.

If we are smart, we will finally begin to strictly regulate weapons, but we will also downplay their appeal. Firearms will be associated with old, outdated, less-educated perspectives. We will pride ourselves on our progressive, educated, and peace-loving values, rather than our ability to inflict carnage. We will value safety, happiness, peace, and the ability to get along. Instead of looking out for number one, we will value the integrity of the community. Prisons will not be used to warehouse the mentally ill. Prisons will be use to rehabilitate those who are salvageable, leaving only the most severely damaged and irreparable individuals to be kept separate.

But my fear is that we will take the other direction. My fear is that we as a nation still value the Wild West mindset and disregard all that we have learned about human development. My fear is that rather than strive toward rational living, we will instead create locked and gated schools and communities and will consider arming everyone so that those with the biggest weapons and the most artillery will reign supreme. Strength and domination will be more valued than intelligent humanity.

So we are at a crossroads, it seems. Will we be smart enough to walk away from the old, outdated, inferior ways of the past, and return to an age of Darkness? Or will we finally begin to take a step into a new way, a better way, a more peaceful, loving and humane way? Will we gather the courage to lead the world toward a more intelligible way of life and make history? Or will the history we create involved more episodes of unspeakable violence against innocent people and children?

Twenty children died Friday and many more witnessed what no one should ever have to see. How are we, as Americans, any better than other countries in the world that we criticize when events like what happened in Connecticut happen simply because we have created an environment that values violence and that chooses to remain uninformed about the causes and treatments for mental illnesses? How dare we think ourselves to be superior when in fact, our culture is becoming more barbaric every day? We have the power to draw the line and collectively shout out "enough" - and then set about creating and valuing something so much better.

So I propose this: America, what do we want? What kind of world do we want to create for our children? And then, how do we set about putting those ideals into actual practice. We CAN do it. We can lead the way and rise above this outdated system that overlooks our poor, that ignores all we have learned, and that continues to value violence over compassion and we can instead begin to value compassion, unity, education, and strong communities. We can begin to value both physical and mental health. And most of all, we can walk away from what no longer serves us. It is, after all, the 21st century.

EXISTENTIAL ANGST

I really thought I was done with the existential issues that we all wrestle with. As I approached my forties, I felt comfortable with mortality. I did not fear death - just a premature or traumatic death. I viewed death as a magical mystery that we all must fact, and felt comfortable knowing that someday, I would be...finished.

Now, not so much. In fact, when Christina left, I feel like she took my magical view of Life with her. Suddenly, the magic was gone and I was left with a fear of death. Now, I fear my own death, and I fear everyone else's death too. I fear it and I am angered by it. I resent mortality. One lifetime is not nearly long enough, and death is so final, so absolute, and so...unpredictable. There is no way to know when it will arrive. And worst of all, there is no way to confirm what happens...after.

It took so long after Christina died to fully comprehend that she would not be coming back. Even now, it doesn't seem quite real. And I find myself wondering where she is...IF she is. And I think of my grandmother - and how the untimely death of her mother kept her grieving her whole life. I understand now how a tragic death can cause a person to be forever changed. Like a pedal note, the pain lingers...

I don't think there is a day that goes by that I don't contemplate my own mortality. I wonder, with much sadness and anxiety, what will become of my belonging or how my children will cope without me. I think about my mom, as I see her aging, and fear the day she takes her last breath. Death. It's not right. It's not fair.

I am angry too that I cannot do what most people do and take comfort in unproven beliefs. I WANT to believe that I will see Christina again. I desperately WANT to believe that my grandmother was reunited with her mother when my grandmother died. I wish I could take comfort in thinking that when I die, I will be with those who have gone before me and that as time passes, my surviving loved ones will join me. But I can't. I just can't. I have no proof and it seems so unlikely. Why can't I just believe the stories? Why can't I take that leap of faith and then revel in the comfort and security that eternity can and will be blissful? I want to...but it escapes me. I just can't. Death is the end. That's what I've seen. Christina was here - and now she's not. She promised: She said that if it were possible to communicate from the other side, she would. And that has not happened. So, either that means that it is not possible to communicate from beyond death, or she has chosen to NOT communicate to me, or it could mean that she simply does not exist any more. Really, any of those potential reasons are equally likely I suppose. But the one that stands out to me is that Christina gone. She was here and now she is not. And that angers me.