Relicks From the Past

On Friday, April 29 my parents arrived in Northwest Arkansas--for good! On Sunday, May 15, just sixteen days after their arrival, my father passed away.

Some three years ago my sister and I made the suggestion that perhaps, our folks should consider moving here. Faced with deteriorating health. They could find a place here, we told them, could live less expensively and would have plenty of family available to come by and look in on them when needed.

Family was always important to my father, and from time to time he would reminisce about the good old days, when so many members of the extended family would come by on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Yes, my dad thrived in that atmosphere. Yet, when the suggestion was made that he and my mother pull up stakes and move here, the idea was kindly rebuffed. I can only imagine that the notion of moving hundreds of miles away from friends and the location that they were bonded to was just as unthinkable for them as it would be for me today, were I faced with that choice. We respected their decision and let the matter drop.

Over the course of the next few years my mother suffered a series of falls, each seemingly worse than the one before it. Last fall she took a spill that seriously injured her elbow and shoulder, landing her in a rehabilitation center for a few weeks. I don't remember exactly when she was released from professional care, but sometime in February of this year she fell again. This time she had broken or fractured her hip, landing her first in the hospital, then back to the rehabilitation center. My sister flew up to Rhode Island to help Dad out and I arrived about a week later, having driven the distance over the course of four days. During the two weeks or so that I was up there, my parents decided that they would come down here, taking residence at my sister's place.

My dad and I didn't see eye to eye very often and it was not at all unusual for us to clash. As far as I can tell, I was a big disappointment to him for a variety of reasons that are mainly related to not following in his footsteps. Be that as it may, I'm glad that I had the opportunity to stay by him and tended to his needs as best I could during his last night here on Earth. I'm not even sure that he was aware of my presence during those last hours, but I suspect that he was, even though he slipped in and out of consciousness. Today, I take solace in knowing that, in spite of all our disagreements over the years, I did right by him in the end. He was buried with military honors Thursday in our National Cemetery.

On Tuesday or Wednesday of this week a cousin whom I hadn't seen since childhood tagged my sisters and me on Facebook with the above photo. He wanted us to guess who the people in the photo were. Scanning the picture, I was able to recognize a couple of the kids in the image. But that man on the left, I wondered, could he be my great grandfather? I had never seen a photo of my great grandfather before, and I soon learned that the man on the left is indeed him and the woman on the right is my great grandmother. In the front row next to him is my father. Also pictured is an aunt and my father's first cousins. All in all, I found the above photo absolutely amazing; and with the passing of my father so fresh in my mind, the photo filled me with a deep sense of melancholy as well as a profound feeling that I had somehow been propelled into the distant past. It brought alive those who have long passed from this world. It helped me become acquainted with ancestors I had never known; I felt connected.

My cousin, who lives about 45 miles away, brought along other photos that I found equally amazing. Also included among his relics from the past were letters and cards my mother had sent to his so many years ago. She looked through them with amazement. I was glad to see her hearkening back to the past. I understand that the world of the 21st century is quite alien to the simpler times she grew up with.

During the dark hours following the funeral it occurred to me that everything my father had wanted and desired for so long occurred on the day of his funeral and burial. Through his passing, the family and its relics from a past that he so cherished had come together in his name--and I find that quite magical!

Rest in Peace, Dad!  

World Goth Day

Sunday, May 22 is World Goth Day.
However you choose to celebrate this yearly event, which is a celebration of our subculture, the Gothic Embrace wishes all its readers a wonderful day followed by a night filled with dark dreams. 

Halloween Land

The night before last I had a most memorable dream. Since then, I've done my best to keep it at the forefront of my mind. Dreams have a way of vanishing from memory if care isn't taken to hold on to them. Then, they lay dormant in our memories unless some event triggers a recollection of them. Well, I'm trying to hold on to this one for as long as I can because it was magnificent.

Nothing of significance occurred on Sunday night's excursion into the dreamscape. Rather, it was the dreamscape itself that I remember as magnificent. That's because I suddenly found myself in Halloween. That's the only way I can describe it.

As the nighttime fantasy began to unfold I found myself in the kitchen of an unfamiliar house. There were Halloween decorations scattered about on the wall, and I seem to remember a decorative dish towel hanging from the oven handle on the stove--and what a stove it was! The appliance was large, heavy and ancient. It hearkened back to something from the nineteenth century, with its cast-iron burner plates and imposing appearance. The house itself seemed something out of an earlier time.

I remember gazing out the two windows from my position across the well lit room and I saw darkness. Night had fallen; it was time to go.

Suddenly, I was on Dickson Street. In real life that's where my city's entertainment district is centered. But the Dickson Street I encountered in my dream was an even more festive place. As a matter of fact, there was a carnival atmosphere all along the strip. It was nighttime; yet, the whole area was bathed in an orange hue. There were Jack o' lanterns and images of witches everywhere as Clowns stood around in front of the various booths performing tricks.

I noticed that there were spinning wheels behind the counters at some of the booths. While there's nothing unusual about that in a carnival setting, I realized that these were all Halloween wheels, very much like the one appearing at the top of this page. I find it interesting that I found a photo that so closely matches the objects that I saw while watching the festivities.

Dreams such as this never last long enough, and I would have lingered in that Halloween landscape for a much longer time had there been a choice in the matter. The thing is, the place I found myself in seemed very real. Most importantly, I could actually feel Halloween. I find it hard to explain this, but it was almost as though Halloween were a living thing. I was inside of it, a part of it, and could feel it to my core.

Do you remember how magical Halloween, Christmas or other event seemed as a child? Hard as you might try, you can't re-create the magical feelings you had back then, can you? My dream experience was like that only stronger, and I struggle to find words adequate enough to convey what it was like being in that Halloween dreamscape.

With Monday night's experience still somewhat fresh in my memory, I can't help but wonder if perhaps there's a Halloween Land that lies somewhere beyond our physical reality. If it does exist, I want to pay it another visit some night, when I can spend more time.