So – tomorrow’s the day. All Hallow’s Eve. The harvest festival of monsters, ghosts, goblins and whatever else man’s fevered imagination can cook up. The day that the veil is thinnest between the world of the living and the dead. A time to engage in watching scary movies, dressing up for Halloween parties and generally making merriment wearing the guise of something alien and different.
It’s also a time to remember. To honor. To elevate. To RESPECT those who are the reason that you are here, living in this time. Whether they were good or bad people, we still stand on the shoulders of our ancestors who hold us up and help us as we make our way through this life. This year, Halloween has a different flavor for me. This is the first year I’ll be celebrating it without being able to call my mother and ask her what movies the Chiller channel has running. I find myself wanting to visit a truly haunted house – something we had always dearly wanted to do when she was still alive. We talked often of going to try to visit the most haunted places that we could get to. When I was a teenger, she and I used to candle gaze, and we would sit across from each other glaring at a small piece of paper, or a penny that we desperately tried to move across the table with our minds. Trying to kickstart what we hoped would be latent telekinesis never did work out, but it was a great bonding experience. We shared our love of things that went bump in the night, creatures that shambled and dark shapes that darted quickly from room to room – just fast enough to be seen out of the corner of an eye, but never full on. Things with needle sharp little teeth that whisper in your ear while you’re sleeping, just waiting to strike if you wake up.
Many people have lost someone that they loved dearly this year. It’s a part of life – this departure from the rhythm of the rest of the world to something beyond, something different. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I truly do believe that when we pass from this world to the next that we are able to reach back somehow, to keep an eye on those we leave behind so that we can help them if they need it. I believe that my mother sees me and smiles when I go somewhere scary and think of her being with me.
Last weekend, I scattered a pinch of her ashes into a river off a bridge that was simply gorgeous by day – and I’m sure it’s creepy as hell at night.
She’d love it.
I miss you more than I can say, Mom – and I hope that wherever you are, you’re doing something that twinges that ‘scare bone’ and cheers you up.
My friends, wherever you are – be safe, be sound, and work some of that scary chill into yer bones. It’s good for what ails ya.