Sunday, August 12, 2012

The shining.

I don't know what my great grandmother thought of me. I wasn't about to get close enough to her to find out. She walked through the house in these old shoes that were like bricks strapped to her feet. They served the same purpose for me as the bell on a cat's collar does for small birds.
She would try to ambush me.
In silence.
But she was too deaf to know how much noise she was making.
During the school year I was stuck in town. I would walk home each day, fix a snack and watch TV.
So one day I'm at the house. The barbarian was unaccounted for.  Just like I liked it.
I am standing with my back to the stove and someone came in and stood behind me. There was no sound of a door, and no one said a word.  I turned around and they were still standing there.
Except for this.
I couldn't see a thing.
But they were still there.
I didn't see anyone.
I didn't hear anyone.
But there they were.
The feeling was so intense that I waived my hand through the open air where I should have seen someone.  And I kept waving my hand there because they kept standing there. It was like standing in front a  klieg light. I could feel this all through me.
It was 40 years ago.
Of all the mist that obscures the past, this is all clear as a bell.
What ever else it was, it was pleasant.
This was long before I consumed any mind altering substances.
It was a feeling of acceptance and harmony, and of being at the right place at the right time, and all of that and none of that and the English language doesn't have any words for this feeling.
It was there.
And it was there.
And then it was gone.
Just like that.
What was the most remarkable experience of my life was gone as quick as it came. And it all made complete sense. It made enough sense that I turned back around and thought what a strange thing to have happen.
And I carried on like nothing had happened.
I didn't forget. It was something no one could forget. But it dovetailed so nicely with my mortal perceptions that questions never came.
It is what it was and what it was is all that there is to it.
About 30 minutes later the phone rang. It was the barbarian and she had stopped off at the farm. While she was there my great grandmother had some episode. She was 89 and it wasn't a surprise. But her death coincided with the shining to the second.
I don't know what else to tell you. This is another of those things that got shoved under the rug.
I never publicized it.
The first time I trotted it out I was trumped by my mothers manufactured crying jag.
If I intended to share this with any one,  my intentions went the way of my story that night.

In memory of
Edna Mae McDonald
1883 - 1972


vicariousrising said...

This post really strikes me. It reads like a creepy-ass poem.

Calibans Sister said...

Q, I've been wanting to hear your account of this episode for weeks now, since you alluded to it in an earlier post. You describe it beautifully. It raised the hair on my arms. I know that what you felt was real. They were there. She was there. You knew. Your use of the english language for this event is stunning. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. What an amazing thing that it happened.

Calibans Sister said...

ps. You are clearly a "sensitive." Your intuitions are sharper than many people's are, and this event probably was life shaping for you. A brief glimpse in the "Real."

Anonymous said...

Yes, a brief glimpse into the Real. That's a great description.


Tundra Woman said...

What a phenomenal experience for anyone to have, particularly a child.
Thanks for sharing.

Bess said...

Beautiful! Thanks.

vicariousrising said...

By this, I mean I really love what you wrote here, even as it breaks my heart on your behalf.

q1605 said...

We weren't close. Which makes the experience even more confusing.

q1605 said...

The deal with her is that I don't ever remember being that close to her.
Not to warrant her checking in on the way out. The few people I have told said it was Jesus coming to get her.
Naaaaah. Not so much.
I didn't think we were close but I found a cache of old pictures with me sitting on her lap in a rocking chair and she was going through a life magazine pointing at the picture.
I was 4 or 5.
It's that thing with grubby boys. I grew up. By the time I was 14 we barely spoke.
She lived with my grandmother so any time I was up at the farm so was she. Meaning I got a lot of face time with her.