What a gorgeous day it is .....pleasantly redundant...I think I'd already covered that in the other recent post.
But it really is.
Humanling waits, unaware of the veil...or perhaps not being able to put it into an awareness, such as children assume the world is for others as it is for them.
Grandma Dust sits in kitchen next to the radio. She's actually a fireball of an Italian Grandma. She was made of Manhattan, jazz clubs, singing, wild childness (for the 30s I'm sure) and fluffing out her hair in order to convince me that she would suck my blood out.
Where will she be tonight?
Funny enough, my mom didn't want to keep my Grandmother any longer after hosting her in her closet for a few years. She was a newlywed at 61 and thought it would be like disclosing a set of siamese land pirhanas to her husband if he stumbled over Grandma accidentally one day.
I was asked to take her, so she hangs here.
She used to reside in the bedroom, which is maybe kind of weird when it comes to you know, a private moment and then laying eyes accidentally on The Box. The shiny red wrapped box. A few Christmases ago, I thought it would be fabulous to wrap Grandma up in shiny red wrapping paper, like a Hot Siren Satiny Dress. And then took her on the rounds Christmas Day.
I still have the photos of the Unenthused holding the box on their laps.
Humanling named her Grandma Dust actually. (That Darn Kid - so charming at all angles of the hour!) She wanted to know what was in the box (noooo.....its not a gift....for YOU....) and so I told her. I had to explain that she was ashes and Poof (without the POOF because I could not bear to vacuum up my grandmother with cat hair and stray jumprings), Grandma Dust.
So whenever I move, I am not in fear of pre-existing resident spirits. After doing a sage cleansing in my new abode, I announce to no one in particular that I B.Y.O.S. (brought my own Spirit). Grandma's here, y'all will have to move over, make friends or hang upstairs with the folks there because MY GRANDMA is here now. And I was her FAVORITE. BAM!
I didn't actually start this out in order to write about her....but it turns out that she exuberantly gleaned her way through anyhow. Which is fine. I was going to write about her back in June but didn't find the right inspiration at the time.
I won't be trying to contact her....I'm really not all about the seance. I personally believe that when you have dreams of your dead, those are the visits. Not limited to, but a part of. I like those. Little mysteries they are, where you try so hard to hang onto every movement, facial expression, word (if you're lucky to get conversation).
Tonight after the treating is done, and my gorgeous little protoplasm of mischief is asleep (not the cat - the devil doesn't sleep), I will light my candles and contemplate, fall into enriching circles of energy that help direct me to the next path. Silence is incredible for listening. I never used to think so. I used to think you can get your silence while you pee. Yeah, not so much.
I'm embarking on creating my reality, as we all are. Only now I'm ready to put down the plans and pick up the tools.
6 comments:
I have (had) a sassy italian grandmother too. :-)
I never got to meet her unfortunately but her spirit lives on in the stories my dad tells....
how she knew five languages.
how she was the first in her family to go to college (and she got her master's degree)
how the NY school system told her she was too short to teach (she was 4'11") so she became a social worker in parts of the inner city my dad said he wouldn't go into with a marine brigade.
many blesings to you as the wheel turns and new beginnings unfold.
ah, my grandmother who just died in august was hell on wheels. she was mean and tough and we always said the reason she lived so long was that neither god nor the devil wanted her. she's much nicer now... and i was favorite (shudder) too...i feel her all around me ... to the point i have to tell her to go play somewhere else, gramma.... ;))))... really lovely post, too... quite evocative of the season :).
You should post the photos of the unenthused, with privacy bars, or course.
You, m'lady, are delightfully weird.
Sounds like the women here were all cut from a cloth of fire! (even though that's the one element in my chart that I am actually devoid of completely). FB, however, is practically the inventor (The Neighbor over there)
Sheesh, what was in the tomato sauce back then??
and I am looking for the photos....
Hmm...I don't know if I was anyone's favorite. If I was, no one bothered to tell me. Such is the story in my family.
But I got a chuckle out of the blog. My grandmothers were both too Catholic to be in a box in my house right how. All I have is a cat and a dog....and I will tell the cat story some day on my blog. The burial, the digging up, and the cremation. sigh...
thanks for the chuckle and as always, superb writing.
When I first used to dream of Mom post-death, it used to depress me. Nowadays not so much. In fact now when I wake up and realize Mom had been there, I smile. In my dreams, she's nothing like she was in my life. So that does seem like a visitation from a better place than she resided at down here.
Thanks for that, Dawn. That's a wonderful thought!
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