the spirits are saying slow down

Día de los Muertos

Do you believe in ghosts? Yes, me neither. None of that. Weird things happen, and I’m sure that even if I can’t explain them, there must be some explanation.

This blog has deteriorated into a bit of memorial of loved ones who’ve passed on occasion. I don’t set out to make it such. There was joking early on that this would be a Dachshund Blog, because I just kept talking about them. There was goodbye Sebastian about my mother’s Dachshund Sebastian who’d died. Then I wrote about the dog I had before the sister and brother Vizslas, who I mention often, when I wrote my rays of sunshine.

Yet I don’t want you to be led to believe I only care about dogs. It might be the truth, but I’d rather at least give the impression that people matter to me, as well.

Recently, I said goodbye to my maternal grandmother. We scattered her ashes in the river near where she’d lived and then I promptly wrote about her here in always fifty-five. There was some delayed grieving because it took a while to arrange a date where everyone in the family could be there, but we did it. And being where I’d spent so much time with her somehow made me feel closer to her.

One of the finest people I’ve known virtually died earlier this year (I wrote about her in smoke and mirrors), and it still gets me. In quiet moments, I can still feel her presence. But remember, I don’t believe in the spirits staying with us. None of that. You die and your gone. Basta.

Have never been much interested in the spirit world. When a psychic was on television, I normally found something else. I’d hear that there are some people who are more attuned to the spirit world, and I’d quickly say to myself, ‘Well, I’m not one of those people.’ Then I’d move on.

I suppose, for the most part, that’s still my position. Except I’ve had a few moments during this trip when I wasn’t so sure. Let me explain.

Most of the people, in my life, who’ve died recently have been older. But one friend died who was my age. Actually, he was a bit younger. I’m not going to go into the details much, because I know he and his family were rather private. But driving by the places I once lived and spent time with him, I’ve been replaying the memories.

It’s been the hardest and most important part of this trip. Somehow his passing didn’t touch me when it was so far away. Sure, it was sad. And inconceivable. However, with my daily life in Germany swirling round me, his passing was somehow ‘over there’. Not going to touch me.

But fast forward to several days ago. I found myself on the side of the road after an auto accident, and couldn’t believe what had happened and how quickly. Suddenly, I felt like my friend was there with me. Surely that can be explained by my thinking so much of him over the previous days. It was clearly my subconscious creating the feeling of his presence.


Yes, that’s it. Of course.

If you read this blog even sporadically, you know that I like to come up with things that make one ponder. To attempt to see things in a bit different manner, when at all possible. I’m as sceptical of the spirit world as I was before.

Nevertheless, I’ve slowed down in his honour if he is watching. Just in case.


  1. I am of like mind about spiritual things. But, I’ve had two experiences in my life that made me slow down and ponder such mysterious things.

    I am terrified to fly. I actually must medicate myself to endure a plane ride. Yet, the Hubs and I went to the Bahamas for our honeymoon. This trip occurred over Father’s Day weekend, so I called my paternal grandfather in Florida. He did not sound well, but he said nothing about his condition. On the plane ride home, we hit some HORRIFIC turbulence. The kind that makes the plane drop like a penny thrown off the roof of the Empire State Building. I was in shambles by the time we landed. The Hubs said, “Let’s just get a car and drive to your grandparents’ house for a few days. We’ll fly home then.” But, three hours in the airport later, no rental cars to be found, we found ourselves getting on our flight back to California.

    The next morning, at about 5:30 a.m., the phone rang. Never a good sign. It was my cousin calling to tell me that my grandfather had died that morning. I was devastated and immediately made arrangements to fly to Connecticut for his funeral.

    I did not take any medicine on that flight. I did not drink a drop of alcohol. It was the calmest, most serene flight I ever remember. I jokingly say I was calm because I knew no Supreme Being would be so cruel as to crash my plane on the way to the funeral of the person I loved most in this world. But, the truth – the one I can’t speak aloud without tears – is that I knew he was with me.

    My maternal grandfather became very ill while I was pregnant with my first child. He passed about 5 months before Nate was born. The last time I saw him, he mistook me for my mother, insisted on touching my swollen belly, and mumbled something about being a grandfather.

    My grandfather was a talented musician. He played several instruments and once played as part of Lawrence Welk’s band. In turn, Nate is growing into a wonderful musician in his own right – a saxophonist and aspiring drummer, he composes music for the band he and his friends play in on the weekends. Coincidence? I’d say yes if I believed in such things.

    1. I love this sort of story. Really appreciate you writing it out here. I have a tendency to write long blog comments when the spirit moves me, as it were, and I love to see someone else doing it, as well.

      As I’m waiting for my first of two long flights, I’m hoping your thoughts give me good karma.

      I don’t mind flying (have certainly done my share of it), but as I get older I certainly find myself thinking more morbid things during turbulence.

      I’m taking your spirit with me to Toronto, though. And then onto Munich.

      Thanks for the comment. Much appreciated.

  2. I don’t know what I believe. Just that there’s something. And things have happened I have no explanation for, but this isn’t the place for them. They’re mine, anyway. I don’t share them often. Which, I know, shock, awe, Amy doesn’t share something? Yeah. A few things are mine.

    I will just say this, and only this, and stop: I’m so glad you’re alright. The world went a little crooked when there was a possibility you weren’t.

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