Ghosts and Angels
I think I am coming to understand ghosts.
When I was a child, my family had the first movie camera and projector on the block and perhaps much further! It was amazing not only in its technology but also how it drew us together: family and friends would come over just to enjoy movie night. That is part of the gig when your Dad is a scientist/engineer/inventor/futurist/artist working for the very first global gizmo corporation. You are almost guaranteed to be an "early adopter". However the seeming opposite also happens - images of the past continue to flicker and haunt, pale representations of those whom I have loved, have loved me, and are gone. Celluloid ghosts.
But back then, in the 1960's, to own a movie was a big deal, unlike today when we are faced with endless Netflix or Hulu selections. Then we had two commercial movie selections and we could record our own home movies complete with sound!! Movie nights always began with the same black and white cartoon of "Andy Panda" (which I still believe Dad bought just for me - Ann D). A change of reels and next to glimmer onto Dad's portable screen were our home movies: loops of stunts by siblings and myself, our cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, sun filtered moments at the lake, on the ice, backyard barbecues, cozy Christmases, all of us together, sometimes embarrassingly so. These were capped off by the "feature film", our copy of the horror movie "It Came From Outer Space".
Here is a confession, I have never seen "It Caaammme from Oooouter Spaaaaace" in its entirety despite it being replayed constantly in our home. Just past the opening titles, I would fly to the furthest room in the house and cover my ears from the sound. To this day, horror movies horrify me despite how cool it may have been to watch with my pre-teen friends.
So as one can imagine, I've never really liked the idea of ghosts either - phantoms one could not really see except when you really didn't want to - like when you are alone, and it is dark, and you are lost.
But that is exactly where I'm finding myself these days,
alone,
in the dark,
lost.
Yet this time, I am becoming the ghost.
Ghosts never really want to leave their lives, it wasn't their choice to change to begin with, and so, of course, they try to remain and are caught in a no man's land of unreality. That is exactly how I am feeling.
I have deeply embraced my life before this New Year's Eve. I am even more deeply in love with and thankful to my husband. Except now two unwanted characters have entered our marriage, like undesired house guests that won't leave, Chemo and Cancer. Our life has become a series of unfathomable fatigue, unexpected symptoms, and silent evenings. Within each cycle they enter with a bang, then slowly, in starts and stops they depart, our life returns to the former normal only to crash to a halt every "day 15".
What remains brilliant is Jim's spirit, with whom I fell so deeply in love almost 13 years to the month ago. He is what my dad would have called "a real trooper" appreciating everyone and every moment, finding joy despite the sudden turn. I, on the other hand, am a bundle of nervous fear and concern. I watch him like a doe watches her newborn knowing a werewolf stalks nearby. I read everything I can. The daughter of a futurist, I cannot stop myself. The information horrifies. The horror draws in. The statistical outcomes stalk. Stop! I don't want to know. I just want to be able to best support my love, to beat those stats, to locate hope.
I am the ghost, searching, caught in the transition, wishing for the past, fearful of the future.
Yet even in the dark, I am awed by amazingly bright stars, constellations really. The appreciation and tenderness of my husband. The dazzling love of those who reach out, call, visit, text, send cards and balloons, who celebrate my brave husband, those who give us their hope and their strength. The angels among us. They call me out. We are alive. We are not alone.
When I was a child, my family had the first movie camera and projector on the block and perhaps much further! It was amazing not only in its technology but also how it drew us together: family and friends would come over just to enjoy movie night. That is part of the gig when your Dad is a scientist/engineer/inventor/futurist/artist working for the very first global gizmo corporation. You are almost guaranteed to be an "early adopter". However the seeming opposite also happens - images of the past continue to flicker and haunt, pale representations of those whom I have loved, have loved me, and are gone. Celluloid ghosts.
But back then, in the 1960's, to own a movie was a big deal, unlike today when we are faced with endless Netflix or Hulu selections. Then we had two commercial movie selections and we could record our own home movies complete with sound!! Movie nights always began with the same black and white cartoon of "Andy Panda" (which I still believe Dad bought just for me - Ann D). A change of reels and next to glimmer onto Dad's portable screen were our home movies: loops of stunts by siblings and myself, our cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, sun filtered moments at the lake, on the ice, backyard barbecues, cozy Christmases, all of us together, sometimes embarrassingly so. These were capped off by the "feature film", our copy of the horror movie "It Came From Outer Space".
Here is a confession, I have never seen "It Caaammme from Oooouter Spaaaaace" in its entirety despite it being replayed constantly in our home. Just past the opening titles, I would fly to the furthest room in the house and cover my ears from the sound. To this day, horror movies horrify me despite how cool it may have been to watch with my pre-teen friends.
So as one can imagine, I've never really liked the idea of ghosts either - phantoms one could not really see except when you really didn't want to - like when you are alone, and it is dark, and you are lost.
But that is exactly where I'm finding myself these days,
alone,
in the dark,
lost.
Yet this time, I am becoming the ghost.
Ghosts never really want to leave their lives, it wasn't their choice to change to begin with, and so, of course, they try to remain and are caught in a no man's land of unreality. That is exactly how I am feeling.
I have deeply embraced my life before this New Year's Eve. I am even more deeply in love with and thankful to my husband. Except now two unwanted characters have entered our marriage, like undesired house guests that won't leave, Chemo and Cancer. Our life has become a series of unfathomable fatigue, unexpected symptoms, and silent evenings. Within each cycle they enter with a bang, then slowly, in starts and stops they depart, our life returns to the former normal only to crash to a halt every "day 15".
What remains brilliant is Jim's spirit, with whom I fell so deeply in love almost 13 years to the month ago. He is what my dad would have called "a real trooper" appreciating everyone and every moment, finding joy despite the sudden turn. I, on the other hand, am a bundle of nervous fear and concern. I watch him like a doe watches her newborn knowing a werewolf stalks nearby. I read everything I can. The daughter of a futurist, I cannot stop myself. The information horrifies. The horror draws in. The statistical outcomes stalk. Stop! I don't want to know. I just want to be able to best support my love, to beat those stats, to locate hope.
I am the ghost, searching, caught in the transition, wishing for the past, fearful of the future.
Yet even in the dark, I am awed by amazingly bright stars, constellations really. The appreciation and tenderness of my husband. The dazzling love of those who reach out, call, visit, text, send cards and balloons, who celebrate my brave husband, those who give us their hope and their strength. The angels among us. They call me out. We are alive. We are not alone.
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