Ghosts of the Living and the Dead
Ofttimes, we revisit places where we’ve been, or places where we’ve lived in our lives. It is often hard to take in the changes, and to understand the impact those changes might have on us. I once took my twins to the home I’d grown up in that had by that time been turned into a business, complete with a parking lot where the lawn and lilac bushes had once been.
As I stood in what was once our yard, in my minds eye, I could see my aunties, now passed on. I saw scenes from my childhood rolling in the grass, playing on my swing set. I could see my family out on the patio in the back, under the covering where we had Summer picnics and laughed and shared food. I remember the party I had when I was in high school on an occasion when my family was gone. There were friends from my school, many were couples, sitting together on the chaise lounges, me alone, as I wondered what it would have been like to be curled up with a boy like that…ghosts…
As I peeked into the windows, I could see some of the various rooms, looking so very small now after seeming so large in my child eyes. I couldn’t see the rooms upstairs, but looking up at the windows, I could imagine seeing my wistful and lonely young face, staring out at the street, and the mountains beyond. I could for a moment feel those feelings…ghosts…
I wished in some way that I could share with my children the echos of voices, laughter, the low murmer of the sound of my family around me, and the comfort I would feel wrapped in the warmth of their love. If I’d understood then that someday it would all be gone, I would have relished more deeply, those moments of safety and enfolding. Going out into the world alone, to find my way, I remember missing that place of warmth, not the house itself, but all that transpired there, life lived, love given…that was what I missed…ghosts
I tried to create with my children as they grew up, in the various homes we lived in—family rituals, times of sharing, ways intended to help my young ones to feel safe and comfortable as I had at home. I guess it worked, they didn’t leave until last year, when they were 23. In the time since, not living where we used to, I have to imagine through my senses, the laughter, the tiny voices, the little hands grasping at my skirt…all the memories of my little ones—now grown…ghosts…
My children are living on their own now. I miss them greatly. When the old ones I grew up with were getting older, they never mentioned the things that I am feeling now, they never talked about how much you miss your chidren when they are gone, or how much watching others around your age passing on is a part of getting older, and that it’s not easy to keep seeing loss…ghosts
Yet, I can also think about all in my life that has been wonderful, all that has been gifted to me in the way of strength, caring, love and understanding. I only know that as I think of those whom I have loved who’ve gone on, I can still feel them there for me, but in a different form. There are also plenty of people in my life just now who have shown me much about the meaning of life, for the better, and even sometimes for the worst. All lessons that give me deeper understanding are for the best…ghosts