The grief ninja is working overtime, in stealth mode. He slaps me down at every turn. Yesterday, out of nowhere, the tears began to fall. They haven’t really stopped for any long duration. I want to kick and scream and let it loose, but not in front of the boys. They’ve seen me crying, and that’s ok, but the exorcist stuff is scary. We have a busy day, with swim practice and a swim meet and stuff sandwiched in between, or I definitely would have shipped them off, maybe done a couple shots, smoked a few cigarettes that were left here by the muthas and cried and screamed until my tonsils bled.
I feel him. He is all around me. He is sucking the breath right out of me. When my head hit the pillow last night, the theme song from the movie “Ghost” played so vividly in my ears. I don’t remember all of the words anymore, but the ones I remembered were enough. Through gritted teeth I hissed at him to leave me alone. You can’t be here. I can’t take it. I can’t think of you. An incident that occurred shortly after he died was flashing in my brain too. I think of it a lot when I walk into my bedroom at night. The house is finally quiet. Everyone is finally asleep. I feel such a sense of peace at this time. A lot of time this is when I write. I never watch tv. It’s too stupid.
There was a night; I guess a week or so after he died. It was after the funeral. I woke up in the middle of the night, as I often did back then. I always woke up at the time the robbery occurred. I stood up in my bed, and looked out of the transom window. I was looking under the tree in front of the house, the tree under which the robber had parked. I was checking to make sure his car wasn’t there. Just making sure he wasn’t coming back, because he told us he would come back for more money. I did that for weeks or months periodically. Only when I looked out the window that night, I was mesmerized by what I saw. Lights. Unlike anything I’d ever seen. Maybe 50 of them. They were floating in mid air. They were in the shape of rectangles, but not with hard edges. The edges were blurred. They were opaque. They were not small. They were probably a foot long, maybe longer, and at least six to eight inches in height. I stood there for a few minutes, staring. Obviously, at first I thought I was going crazy. I knew I was awake. I looked down at the baby sleeping, as if to verify my reality. I stared intently at every single thing I could see out there, looking for a good explanation. Lights coming from the ground, from people, from something above. I seriously thought it might even be some weird UFO thing. Fucking aliens on the lawn would not have surprised me at this point. There was nothing. Just the lights, hovering.
The feeling I had in that moment, deep inside me, was that it was an intervention of the souls. He wanted to come back. Only he couldn’t. What does this mean? I whispered to him, “You can’t come back. You did this. I don’t know what this means. I can’t help you. It can’t be undone now. We have to learn to live with this.” It was real. It was as real as it could be. I know it’s weird. I knew no one would believe me. I told people anyway. No one said I was crazy. They probably thought it, though. I was awake and completely in touch with reality.
The next day I googled it. I couldn’t find anyone who described similar lights, although many people described similar circumstances following a death. I remember thinking, this is great, some great sign, only what does it mean?
A year later, I still know it really happened. I wasn’t really medicated, other than ½ of a low dose Klonopin each day for anxiety. I’m comforted by the experience. It wasn’t scary in any way. I feel honored that the veil was lifted in that moment. He exists, somewhere.