Communicating After Death

3

shot-glass

A shot glass you once held and gave
to us – a souvenir
has been on display since you
passed away
at parties among gin – scotch – whiskey
and there – a Schlitz shot glass
as if staring at us with unseen eyes. . .

A simple token of you brings back
laughter – stories – tales of when you
too were here embracing life –
it was this a glass we brought . . .

I told you so
while I talked to you on the porch –
asking, “Please show us you are here
tonight.”

A different week – broken mirrors. . .
not knowing why two broke into
smithereens – then a glass moves
moving dust around – a clean circle,
we knew it was you

He planned this meeting with a
stranger, me with your shot glass
inside my purse.  It was outside,
on the porch where I asked you,
“please be sure to mention the
glass, broken mirrors, and tell us
you are here.”

Here among strangers we sit, as
we listen to sad stories of the dead,
a child what she held in her arms,
who kissed her last, who she said she
loved before she closed her eyes for
good – here where tears flow easily
among the onlookers.

We talked all our life about your
death, since you fought so long and
hard – and you promised you would
let me know you were here – and yes
you have for many years… but what
about those mirrors?

That evening I knew you were listening –
I knew you were following my steps
The medium stared at me, you were
coming through.

That girl over there, in the blue sweater,
our eyes connected –
she said, “I see two – a paternal
Grandmother pushing to be heard
first and you mother – holding
a baby in your arms.”

Every word connected us – but
when she held up her hand and
said, “Your mother is
talking about a little glass” my
husband nearly collapsed.

Then she said, “those mirrors –
she didn’t break the expensive one…”
and when she told me not to
soak my feet, it was expensive –
supportive shoes I need. . .
mother’s words continued and
she wasn’t skipping a beat – she
did not want to stop telling me
she was here, with us, next to us –
and all she said was perfectly
said, as if she were saying it in her
words.

I know for sure your
with me – between us as we
ride – you said so, knowing I
do not drive. . .
you told us you were listening
as I rode with my husband.

You were with me on mother’s
day when a stranger handed me
a good luck plant – a man gave me –
Irish Shamrocks – since I moaned
I had no mom.

So, we continue – we communicate
without words – your love remains
strong now – as if we looked
eye to eye – that day we toasted to life.

3 Comments
  1. Claudette says

    Anyone who has been blessed with such a bond, remembers here. Thank you!

  2. Nancy Duci Denofio says

    Claudette – I learned at a young age to believe – and with all that has happened, my belief continues to grow stronger. Nancy

  3. MiriamSPia says

    Weird…there is a lot about this topic and it ranges from people doing rituals so that a great great grandparent won’t interfere with one’s love life and to escape the pain of their ghostly disapproval to stories like the one told in your article, about mediums and seances and people feeling good and being glad their ancestors are around – it may be ‘situtational’ whether the enegry would be considered beneficial or problematic.

Leave a Comment

                                                                                                                              Unique Pageviews for this article: 198  

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept