Monday, July 19, 2010
I had a reading with Georgia O'Connor today. If I wasn't sceptical, if I wasn't so afraid of being gullible, if I didn't worry about everyone thinking I was a nut-job for paying a psychic to tell my daughter is in heaven then it would have been a really good reading.
I love the paranormal how could I not when I have a daughter who no longer has a body. I love the idea of people being psychic, I understand instinct and intuition and how powerful it is, ask my kids, I have eyes in the back of my head, ask my husband, I bust him a mile away when he is up to no good.
I explore the possibility of alien life, a quantum universe, and metaphysics blows my mind. I have a crushes on a nerdy physicists and all the theories they bring to the table, all ways they explain how the universe works and even if they are scientists they still believe in something bigger even if it is just a universe full of more universes.
Today I was a weeping mother on the other end of a telephone conversation with a woman who claims she can see past the veil. It was out-of-body, there were too many emotions and feelings and fears.
I was excited, embarrassed, hopeful, and cautious. I tapped the top of Noah's cell phone, I picked at little lint balls on the bed, and I contemplated painting my toenails while I waited for the 1:oo call to come in. I was at ease the moment I picked up the ringing phone and she said my name. She was feeding her baby and talking to my daughter and the things she told me started giving me hope. I thought maybe I slipped up somewhere and she googled me and I was chumped.
I wrote down everything she said, I cried, I wondered, I tried to convince myself for just one moment I was actually on the phone to the other side and Stevie was talking to me. I couldn't ask questions, all I could do was listen, I didn't want it to stop, I couldn't get enough. I wanted her to tell me things no one else knew but she didn't. We are all humans and mothers who lose children all share the same pain, we do the same things, we have the same worries and needs.
I remembered to get a new email account, to use my maiden name, to have her call a phone different than my own. I paid with my fathers credit card. My sister later pointed out that the phone I used was a phone I paid for and even though it was Noah's I came up on caller ID. Damn...I will never be a secret spy.
She said a few things that could be googled like Stevie's name, the reference to her brain, the rain, and sipping a drink from a coconut. She also said a few things that confused me, they felt like things my grandmother would say (according to the psychic my grandmother, grandfather, and father in law where all there ready to communicate). Some of the things she told me were things that were important to me but I did not expect her to bring up. I chalked a few of those up to common things that come up for the grieving.
She was kind, she was soothing, she did her best to let me know I was loved, not alone, and that I would be with my daughter again, who by the way was happy where she was. It is more than some therapists have to offer, the price is similar the results are better, I vote psychic.
Was it real? I don't know. I have a lot to digest, too much to think about. If it isn't and I believe it I really don't lose a thing. If I refuse the comfort then I miss an opportunity for healing.
She didn't try to sell me another session or sell me a potion to get rid of a curse. She actually told me that my daughter thought it was ridiculous for me to be talking to a psychic when we had been communicating so well without one. She told me things I knew but needed to hear like: My daughter loved and missed me, that she was happy, that I was her best friend, that every time I asked if it was her, it was. If my little tape player worked better, if Noah's speaking phone was a little more powerful I would have recorded all of it and played it over and over before bed.
I am still processing all of this, I will take what I need and neatly store the rest away in a safe place. Even though I am skeptical I have an open mind, even though I am curious I am not gullible, it was a good reading, a very good reading.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
I'm coming back to my girl by July...
It's July, we have had a couple hot days but for the most part it has been a mild summer. I am guessing the heat will arrive late when school starts and Noah wants to wear his new jeans and a sweater to school, I will force him to wear shorts and he will think I am mean.
We had my aunts 70th birthday here last week, it was nice, not sure how she felt about it, it was a surprise and she seemed a little overwhelmed. Her Colorado kids, grand kids, and great-grandson arrived and surprised her a couple days before the party and we had one of her best friends from third grade here. We gave a her a computer, made a video of her life, and bought a big cake with bright blue flowers all over it.
My aunt is a planner, a little OCD and likes to hold the pencil if you know what I mean. I didn't think about that when I planned this gig, I just knew that she would thing no one remembered and I wanted her to feel very remembered, make her queen for the day. I think we blew her mind, and stressed her out but all in all I think she felt the love.
I found a little houseboat on craigslist. I am always looking but have never ever found anything that we could afford. This one popped up and I jumped on it. The price was right and I really expected it to be scary when I drove to Oakley to look at it. I was surprised that even though it got big prizes for being funky it was a good boat; the engine is in good shape, it has been well taken care of and it was just the right size for us (28ft).
It sits in the Delta, not my favorite place but the property where we will be renting the slip is very nice, pretty, green, quiet. The boat has faux wood panelling on the inside, a terrible green carpet, a golden harvest stove and dusty old seat cushions. It smells like...a cabin. We went out last week and removed all the old stuff and put in new stuff like aqua dishes, cups, floating silverware, new pots and pans, pillows and blankets. We dusted and cleared out cobwebs, washed it down, and did a little happy dance on the dime sized deck.
It is cute in an old boat way I think we will have some good times on it. Noah is a good age. I wish Stevie was here, oh she would have loved this thing and I think she helped me find it. If she was here she and I would be decorating it and escaping to it every chance we got. She wouldn't let me change a thing, she would want to roll with the retro. We would buy party lights, fuzzy gnomes, find a record player and blow up furniture.
I talked to her before bed and said, "Stevie a boat needs a name, I want you to choose it, tell me what to name it, but I won't name it Freakin-Unicorn" I woke up the next morning and "Turtle" popped into my head. I know it isn't "me" because I would not have chosen "Turtle" The other night I was thinking that it was a silly name for a boat and wondering if I had lost my mind (again). A couple hours later I was watching "Never been kissed" with Noah. This is a silly movie the girls liked, Drew Barrymore who plays a sweet geek, in the movie she has the cutest apartment and a pet turtle. Stevie popped into my head and I said out loud "all right Turtle it is" I realise I have lost my mind and our boat will be named "Turtle".
This is my last month trying to have a baby. I am not even sure if I am going to go through with it. The universe has been telling me no, and maybe I have to listen. I am bummed about it, feel like I need to give it one more shot, then let it go. I will be 45 in August and I promised myself I wouldn't try after that age.
Stevie, I tried...
Thank you for helping me find the boat, the name, and I know you will be with us on the water. You always loved the water, it calmed you. As a baby you had no fear, loved, loved, loved to swim. I hear you when I can stop being sad long enough to listen. Stay close love, I need you.
Come to me in my dreams and show me your heaven, tell me secrets, let me know that you are still you.
I love you so.