I'm With Your Ghost, Again

Note to my readers: Thoughts of my mother, who died in October of 1997, come to me just like this...out of the blue, when I least expect them.

Last night, while the 9th inning of the Boston Red Sox game played quietly in the background, I sat at my laptop diligently searching for a good cover photo for my writer's Facebook page. I was sorting through pictures of various writing quotes, photos of old typewriters, antique book stacks and the like, when suddenly the ghost of my mother whispered through my mind, "Why don't you use one of your own drawings?" She was an exceptional artist, whereas I am just a novice. I opened up a folder of my artwork and found a charcoal sketch of me as a little girl writing my first story, a simple drawing done long ago but I could feel my mother say, "Yes, that one." When I put it up, BAM! There we were, she and I, sitting together and staring at the utter rightness of the image..little me facing a current photo of grown up me. Mom's ghost asked, "What are you going to do next? She's waiting for you, you know. She's waiting for you to finish the story." My mind was suddenly full of all the things I would say to my "little self", like---it's going to be alright, and don't be scared of the monsters...when we get older, we defeat them. I couldn't help but think of my mother's monsters, too.

I spoke to her, there in stillness..."I wish I'd known more about all of the dark things that kept you from being able to be who I needed when I was growing up. And I'm so sorry that I hated you for disappointing me, abandoning me. I didn't really hate you, Mama. Mostly, I just wanted, ached for you to love me back, take care of me, protect me. I wanted you to be the one who boldly checked under my bed at night to make sure no monsters were hiding there in the dark, and tell me fantastical stories about princesses and far away places as I fell asleep. Instead, here I sit at forty-five, and you come to me just like that, in a whisper or a thought or a memory so strong it takes the breath from me. I know you don't need my apologies now and I know you understand things in ways you couldn't while you were alive. And I feel your healing warmth and love shining down on me in so many little ways all the time! I'm not afraid of your ghost, Mama, and I'm not afraid of the monsters anymore, either. As for "little me", I'm bringing her out of the space where she's been frozen in time, so that she can show me how to play, to imagine, and to see the world with wonder, and I can show her what it feels like to be safe!"

*Above is a photo of my mother as a teen. She was visiting Hollywood, CA when the photo was taken with a 'monster' from Universal Studios. Below, she is in her twenties and dancing with a class of her students (she was a dance instructor for a time).

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