This morning I start working around 5 a.m. By 9 a.m., I cry tiny tear rivers after reading Mona Simpson's eulogy for Steve Jobs. His final words and realization: Oh wow oh wow oh wow. What did he see?
At noon, my aunt comes over with her grandchildren. We stroll to the beach, picnic, the girls make sandcastles in the sand in weather so much sunnier than summer. When we walk by the hospital where my uncle died, my aunt mentions not liking that hospital. It's Halloween. The eldest grandchild asks in a spooky voice if it's a scary hospital. "Oh, well, it is to me," my aunt replies. To me all hospitals are scary, I think.
Early evening rolls around and S and I are deciding on the overly cozy pea-in-the-pod costume or the thinner Dracula costume. It's hot outside (and Rowan's a little milk vampire), so we go with the latter. We meet up with friends and walk around downtown where one of my best friends is accused of wearing a pregnant lady costume. Of course, it's a real belly with a real baby inside, who will soon join this world; 7 billion something in the big scheme of the world population.
And what a complicated 7 billion we are, with as many legacies. Imagine if
we could all hire eloquent biographers to distill our lives into hardcover books. Someone so
interested in our lives that they interview our friends and family to
get to know us on multiple levels. This is what I wanted to do for my
mom when I was much younger. Of course it wasn't for her, it was for me.
I knew that then as I know it now. Still, nothing has ever come of that desire because of bashfulness, laziness, fear.
Once our overly tired vampire is sleeping, S and I eat dinner. I tear up again, describing Mona's eulogy and Steve's' last words. I recall the last words of my mom as heard by my aunt: I see nana and Sharon (her sister who died only months before she did), and so much love.
It's Halloween. The day the invisible wall between our world and the spirit world thins. Today I feel like I'm peeking through to the other side. I see light. I see a mirror reflecting this life--in its various stages--back at me.
At noon, my aunt comes over with her grandchildren. We stroll to the beach, picnic, the girls make sandcastles in the sand in weather so much sunnier than summer. When we walk by the hospital where my uncle died, my aunt mentions not liking that hospital. It's Halloween. The eldest grandchild asks in a spooky voice if it's a scary hospital. "Oh, well, it is to me," my aunt replies. To me all hospitals are scary, I think.
Early evening rolls around and S and I are deciding on the overly cozy pea-in-the-pod costume or the thinner Dracula costume. It's hot outside (and Rowan's a little milk vampire), so we go with the latter. We meet up with friends and walk around downtown where one of my best friends is accused of wearing a pregnant lady costume. Of course, it's a real belly with a real baby inside, who will soon join this world; 7 billion something in the big scheme of the world population.
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| {dracula by elena grover} |
Once our overly tired vampire is sleeping, S and I eat dinner. I tear up again, describing Mona's eulogy and Steve's' last words. I recall the last words of my mom as heard by my aunt: I see nana and Sharon (her sister who died only months before she did), and so much love.
It's Halloween. The day the invisible wall between our world and the spirit world thins. Today I feel like I'm peeking through to the other side. I see light. I see a mirror reflecting this life--in its various stages--back at me.
What do you see?
9 comments:
what a touching experience of halloween and remembering those that have past. tears are appropriate.
what a sweet vampire! lol too cute.
I'm with Monica on this one.
And I think Rowan is the cutest vampire ever!
I was moved by your post. Halloween is a new tradition in Norway, and we don't really have that much of a relationship to it yet. My daughter has chicken pox, so we skipped the trick'n treating. But we thought about the ones we miss, like my mother who died 16 years ago, when I was 23.
you're posts always make me feel so peaceful. Even when they're about death.
Rowan is the cutest little man. I love his red hair.
The two days before my Grandma died, she kept pointing to the corner of her room, I always wonder if someone came to get her. And when my Grandfather passed, he was sick for a few days, then after I made it to Oklahoma he went into a bit of a coma. His last words were "I love you" to me. I told him to hang on, because his sons were coming from CA and NM to say goodbye. He waited for 3 days, for them to get there, and hours later, he went.
You have such a way with words. It captivated me from beginning to end.
Adorable photo!!!
Wow, I didn't know that about your mama's last words. How has that not come up with us? Pretty amazing and comforting.
Rowan is adorable as a vampire--I think you made the right costume choice. Wish I could have seen him in person. This weekend my dad is in town (in Napa) so I'll be up there, but you are on my mind and a date is coming soon. I love and miss you.
it is seriously crazy that the 7th billion baby was born. thanks for a moving post! I like the way you view Halloween is such a beautiful, spiritual light.
What a touching post.. I'm so sorry you lost your mom. Her last words are so incredibly beautiful.. I always think how I should keep better track of my parents lives/stories.. it's hard though. I keep putting it off for multiple reasons like you said.
such beautiful words- great post- I love your mom's last words. thanks for sharing them.
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