All Souls Day
Dear mum,
I saw you yesterday, on all souls day. Were you really there?
My day started out... not the best. I was in pain with my ribs, having woke up screaming in the middle of the night because they did that popping thing. (My Tietze Syndrome) Then I was letting some stress weigh on my chest; it's heaviness sinking deep, and spreading to my back and underarm. It really kept my mood on the lowest setting.
I was talking to Kevin as this was happening and I said to him, "I'm going to be sent to an early grave." It wasn't long after that, I got a call from Jason. Of course. We have these psychic tendencies, running on both sides of the family, and he always seems to know the moments something isn't right. Like the day before you passed, when we were trying to get you to the hospital. I opened the door, and he was standing there. "I fucking knew it!" he said, coming in to help carry you. "I knew something wasn't right."
So there it was again yesterday. He reached out to take me out for a bit. My big brother, taking me away from myself. We went to the pub to play some pool, and I know it might not have been the best idea, given he's an alcoholic and I have a thirst for vodka when I'm low. But it was fun, it was really nice to spend that time with him.
On the third game, he appeared quite drunk and he joked that he needed my glasses to take the next shot because he was seeing double. I handed them over, and when he put them on and faced me from the other side of the table, he waved. No. You waved.
I could swear blind - no pun intended - it was you. I know Jason looks a lot like you, and being blind in my left eye, I don't see too well and vision blurs with glasses off. But it was you. Like you were there, wearing your reading glasses and waving at me.
Why would he even wave at me? It was a brief moment, no sense to it because he was going to take his shot. And anyway, with him wearing my glasses, shouldn't I be the one waving to see if he could see me? Not only that, he is much taller than you, too. But for that moment, he appeared smaller - you-sized. The length of a pool table between us, it's not so far that I can't distinguish what or who is in front of me. It was you. Mum.
My eyes welled up for a moment, and I turned away to take a drink. I didn't want to get into why I looked sad, on the verge of tears. So I swallowed it down and then joked that Jason was cheating. We carried on, and I kept the vision of you in my mind, but never brought it up.
We did talk about you a lot. I pushed it a little, because I never really got to talk about your passing with family. By that I mean, I couldn't do it without breaking down crying, then screaming to be left alone.
Our eyes were painted sad, but we didn't cry when we spoke of things we remembered and how stubborn you were. I even said that it wasn't the cancer that killed you, it was stubbornness. You wouldn't go to the doctor. And we both laughed when we realised we were being hypocrites because... same!
I'm terrible at pool. I'm not so bad when shown what to do, but Jason kept going on about angles. "Look at the angles," he said. "It's all about the angles. Angles, diameters and all that shit." He kept saying it, and I was thinking, "God, say 'angles' one more time..." But then a memory played out from the projector behind my eyelids, when I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to get impatient with the instructions.
"From your wee angle." The memory of a card I wrote you as a child, misspelling "angel". You always called me your angel.
I lightened up, and didn't huff after that, every time "angle" was mentioned. I took it as a sign. You were very much there. Our wee angle.
Thank you for showing yourself to me, mum. I wonder if you know how frustrated I've been. Venting to those who believe, and have witnessed, my "gift". I'd complain that I keep seeing everyone else's family who have passed over, recieving messages from them to pass on and such. But never my own. Never you. Until last night, ALL souls day. Thank you for that.
Wish you were here...
I saw you yesterday, on all souls day. Were you really there?
My day started out... not the best. I was in pain with my ribs, having woke up screaming in the middle of the night because they did that popping thing. (My Tietze Syndrome) Then I was letting some stress weigh on my chest; it's heaviness sinking deep, and spreading to my back and underarm. It really kept my mood on the lowest setting.
I was talking to Kevin as this was happening and I said to him, "I'm going to be sent to an early grave." It wasn't long after that, I got a call from Jason. Of course. We have these psychic tendencies, running on both sides of the family, and he always seems to know the moments something isn't right. Like the day before you passed, when we were trying to get you to the hospital. I opened the door, and he was standing there. "I fucking knew it!" he said, coming in to help carry you. "I knew something wasn't right."
So there it was again yesterday. He reached out to take me out for a bit. My big brother, taking me away from myself. We went to the pub to play some pool, and I know it might not have been the best idea, given he's an alcoholic and I have a thirst for vodka when I'm low. But it was fun, it was really nice to spend that time with him.
On the third game, he appeared quite drunk and he joked that he needed my glasses to take the next shot because he was seeing double. I handed them over, and when he put them on and faced me from the other side of the table, he waved. No. You waved.
I could swear blind - no pun intended - it was you. I know Jason looks a lot like you, and being blind in my left eye, I don't see too well and vision blurs with glasses off. But it was you. Like you were there, wearing your reading glasses and waving at me.
Why would he even wave at me? It was a brief moment, no sense to it because he was going to take his shot. And anyway, with him wearing my glasses, shouldn't I be the one waving to see if he could see me? Not only that, he is much taller than you, too. But for that moment, he appeared smaller - you-sized. The length of a pool table between us, it's not so far that I can't distinguish what or who is in front of me. It was you. Mum.
My eyes welled up for a moment, and I turned away to take a drink. I didn't want to get into why I looked sad, on the verge of tears. So I swallowed it down and then joked that Jason was cheating. We carried on, and I kept the vision of you in my mind, but never brought it up.
We did talk about you a lot. I pushed it a little, because I never really got to talk about your passing with family. By that I mean, I couldn't do it without breaking down crying, then screaming to be left alone.
Our eyes were painted sad, but we didn't cry when we spoke of things we remembered and how stubborn you were. I even said that it wasn't the cancer that killed you, it was stubbornness. You wouldn't go to the doctor. And we both laughed when we realised we were being hypocrites because... same!
I'm terrible at pool. I'm not so bad when shown what to do, but Jason kept going on about angles. "Look at the angles," he said. "It's all about the angles. Angles, diameters and all that shit." He kept saying it, and I was thinking, "God, say 'angles' one more time..." But then a memory played out from the projector behind my eyelids, when I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to get impatient with the instructions.
"From your wee angle." The memory of a card I wrote you as a child, misspelling "angel". You always called me your angel.
I lightened up, and didn't huff after that, every time "angle" was mentioned. I took it as a sign. You were very much there. Our wee angle.
Thank you for showing yourself to me, mum. I wonder if you know how frustrated I've been. Venting to those who believe, and have witnessed, my "gift". I'd complain that I keep seeing everyone else's family who have passed over, recieving messages from them to pass on and such. But never my own. Never you. Until last night, ALL souls day. Thank you for that.
Wish you were here...
