To Catch A Ghost, Part 2

Well...the test results say that my house is ghost free.

I had hoped against hope that the cat toys would be in a different location, but they weren't. They were exactly where I had left them. I can't honestly say that I had expected otherwise, but there was the slightest bit of hope that I would be wrong.

Death of a loved one, whether it be a human or a pet is a tramatic experience that takes months, sometimes years to recover from. We cling to the hope that we can still somehow connect - whether spirtually or paranormally, only to discover that in time those feelings often weaken or go away for good.

I'm still not one hundred per cent convinced that a form of Willy isn't floating around my house somewhere, which gives me the sad realization that I haven't fully recovered from the loss.

To Catch A Ghost, Part 1

My cat Willy died several months ago, but I believe his ghost is still hanging around the house. Most mornings my wife thinks that she hears him walking down the stairs and I have often times thought that I heard him playing with his toys in the other room. Also, late at night I often feel him jump onto the bed and go to sleep beside me, just like he did almost every night while he was living.

When Willy was alive, he always seemed to have a connection with outside forces. He would bat at unseen objects and would constantly cry at a blank wall as if something were inside it. Now that he's gone, it almost feels like he's joined that invisible world that he always seemed to be a part of.

My first clue to all of this was right after he died. We had decided that we were done with pets and we threw out all of the cat toys. That night I put the garbage out on the curb like I always do, but in the morning I noticed that many of the cat toys were scattered all over the yard. What made this interesting was that not all of them were out of the trash - only the ones that Willy always played with.

I gathered them up and threw them away again. The next morning, those same cat toys were scattered all over the yard has if they had been played with. This time, I decided to keep a couple of those toys.

Those toys have been sitting in my desk for several months, and I feel it's now time to get them out. Tonight I plan on putting them is different places in the house. The next morning, if Willy is a ghost, the toys should be in a different spot.

I don't know what I'm expecting, but I know what I'm hoping for. Check this blog soon for the results.

Holding Onto The Past While Dealing With The Present

My wife and I went out to dinner the other night with another couple. The first twenty minutes all four of us took turns telling each other of the declining health of our mothers. My friend said that his mother has gone down hill so much in the past two years that as far as he's concerned the mother he knew died two years ago.

I don't feel that way about my mother and I hope that I never will, but watching a parent battle the atrocities of father time is an eye opening experience. No one is perfect, but it seems like old age and everything that comes with it, magnifies those imperfections. For what was once a vibrant, fun-loving, life of the party, is many times of late replaced by a nervous, forgetful, mean-spirited, old stranger.

I watched both of my parents take care of their aging parents, so it's not like I didn't have any warning. I think it's just that I, and many other baby boomers just didn't pay attention. And the reality of it all is that now is when my mother needs her family the most.

What makes this hard is that when I visit, I expect to see the healthy person that I've known my whole life. And when that person is replaced by the older and needier version, my own selfish needs suddenly seem more important - or at least easier.

The bottom line is that I know my mother feels a lot worse than I do, both emotionally and physically. And as she moves on to the next level of life, so must I. And I'm finding that as the sick and aging go through denial and acceptance, so do the healthy.

The Facebook Curse

At my age, Facebook is a great tool to find and reconnect with long, lost friends.

However, at my age it's also one of the most annoying, addicting, time-wasting creations known to man. And yet, I still find myself each day prying into the lives of those who wish to share their every mundane thought.

On rare occassions I'l get a good laugh, or learn something worthwhile about someone, but most of the time I find myself just shaking my head, for more times than not I learn things about people that I would rather not know.

Through their own words, I have discovered through Facebook that certain family members and friends are immature, insecure, shallow, in constant need of attention, or just plain clueless.

Ultimately, it's my choice on whether or not to endure this torture, so I try to keep quiet, which for me isn't always easy. However, until I have the courage and strength to just walk away from Facebook, I guess I'll have to just keep shaking my head.

Cheaters And Heros

All over the news yesterday was the not very surprising confession that Mark McGwire cheated throughout his baseball career. What barely made the news yesterday was the death of Miep Gies.

Miep Gies was a true hero. She was the last surviving member of the family that hid Anne Frank during the Nazi takeover in World War II. She was also responsible for holding onto Anne Frank's diary until her father was released from his imprisonment in a concentration camp.

Mark McGwire made history by cheating, while Miep Gies kept a part of history alive through loyality and bravery.

Mark McGwire knew he was cheating as he stole the legacy of Roger Maris right in front of the Maris family, while Miep Gies knew she was going against a deadly communist government and yet did it for her strong beliefs in what she felt was happening at that time was wrong.

Mark McGwire claims that he cheated because steriods were available and everyone was using them, while Miep Gies risked her life because she had the courage and class to not go along with the crowd.

Mark McGwire makes a tearful apology, wins back a few fans and will most likely end up in the Baseball Hall of Fame, while Meip Gies dies and most of the world could care less.

What is wrong with this picture?

The Mystery Of Christmas

It's Christmas time once again.

It's that time when Atheist's celebrate a religious holiday and the believers celebrate a birthday that happened in July.

It's that time when good hard-working people often spend money they don't have on a gift they really don't want to buy because they couldn't find the gift that they were really looking for in the first place.

It's that time when we reflect on the mistakes of the past year, with the knowledge that we will most likely make them again.

However, it's also that time where the words peace, good will and family take on a special meaning - a meaning that often gets lost come January.

The Magic Inside Us

My father has been dead for over ten years now. And yet I see him often and speak with him frequently. It happens at night when I'm sleeping. It happens when I dream.

Everytime I have a dream that includes my family, my father is always in it as if he had never died. Apparently my sub-conscious thinks he's still alive, or in denial, or something of that nature. Whatever it is, it has been occuring at least once a month for over ten years.

 I can't remember any of those dreams now, but when I have them they are so vivid that I always awake thinking that he is still around. After a moment or two I realize it was all a dream.

This doesn't make me sad. It makes me happy - happy to be with him again. It might be in the form of a dream, but they feel like the real thing. And I'll take that over nothing any day.