While sitting in my house coat, sipping coffee, watching
morning news programs, trapped in the house due to bad weather - I tell my
house mate I am going to do nothing today. He tells me he is going to put gas
in my car before the rain returns and asks if I would like a donut. My reply is
ONE. I tell him if he comes back with more than one he will have to eat them
all. He returns with only two donuts – one for each of us. They are the
biggest, fattest, Bavarian cream filled donuts he could find. At what point did
he not understand that my verbal limit to one donut meant I was trying to limit
my intake of sugar and bread at this hour of the day? Well, you’ve read my
story on how his mind works . . . unexplainable.
As I walk to the kitchen to refill my cup, my mind goes the
opposite direction of doing nothing. There is a voice in my head saying, “I
really need to take inventory of the leftovers in the freezer.” I take another
step, and my list of things to organize for Saturday comes up as a mental
picture in my head. I am crossing off the two things I have already covered,
and my brain is adding to that list before I even have a pen in hand.
While returning to sit down in my chair, I have
rolled around phrases in my brain:
I got my mouse to work. I can quit
fighting that track pad on the lap top.
I need to check on reservations
for Saturday’s brunch after the funeral.
I need to call Bull Creek Grill
about Mother’s Day. They said they weren’t sure they needed to take
reservations and told me to check back on Friday.
I need to get the sewing machine
out and alter my slacks.
I really need to iron some suits
in case I get the job.
I kid you not. There’s a lot
rattling around in there.
So the next thing I will do after
I type this is to get the note pad out and modify my list to add the things
flitting through my gray matter. If my thoughts could be heard, one would hear the sounds of a beehive in the room. I have never been able to tune things out or be
idle. I have always had a full time job, but never just one assignment could keep me busy enough. In addition to my 40 - 50 hour employment, I taught piano several
nights a week, and I have served as the church musician since I was 16. How on earth did I manage
to sew my wardrobe and most of my daughter’s all those years? When did I manage to clean a
house (which pretty much stayed immaculate, even if the conditions were rather
poor)?
All this jibber jabber is to set
up what is coming next. Not only does my head swirl all day long, I have
something happening that makes me think I am going crazy. It happened years
ago, then ceased for the years I was caring for mother. Now that era of my life has passed, I am back in a somewhat normal life routine, and it is happening again.
My first introduction to a ‘presence’
was creepy. I thought I was about to have a heart attack. At the time it initially happened I was under a lot of
pressure while I worked, played the organ for a church and was sewing my daughter’s
wedding gown. The air pressure around me felt like it changed. I felt like I
was going to throw up. It almost felt as if I drew partly away from my body. I
heard the faint strains of what could have been Christmas music with tinkling
sounds. I heard the household sounds around me, but it was as if they went off into the distance. I felt
the air move. I was freaked completely out. Then it stopped. The second time it
happened I was driving. I jerked the car over to the shoulder of the road,
jumped out and fell to my knees thinking I was going to vomit. It was so
strong. Another incident happened as I prepared for a staff meeting at League City . I sat in my
chair and I felt something near me. Nothing was there. The urge to cry was
almost overwhelming every time. I told my sister about it and she contended I
was feeling the angel of death. But no one significant to me died during that time.
Then, one day while I was beading
Tina’s wedding dress, I felt it leaning over my shoulder as if it were watching
me. I jerked to the right just in case my stomach did the unthinkable on the
gown. I literally said, “I don’t know who you are. Go away. You’re scaring me.”
I didn’t feel it again.
I do not know who the presence was.
Over the years I have lost my father, my aunt Jackie, all my grandparents and
numerous colleagues. All I know is that it was intense when it was present.
October 15, 2006
I was driving home from League City . It was a
stormy Sunday. I was driving about 45 miles an hour in heavy rain and wind. I
started sliding on the Fred Hartman bridge and landed safely, but turned around facing the wrong direction on
the inside shoulder. I picked up my cell to call Ramon and watched as a pick up
truck at the top of the bridge spun wildly out of control at a high rate of
speed, heading straight for me. I was screaming and had no time to get in gear,
turn around and get away. Traffic was coming in all lanes. He hit me, slamming
me down the bridge backward. He rammed me several times, sending me flying down
further, then would catch up with me only to hit me again. We ended up with his truck
ramming my little Saturn up onto the concrete divider - both facing the wrong
way on the inside shoulder. The tail gate of the truck was 18 inches from my
windshield. I climbed out between the bucket seats and out the back door.
During all the hysteria, I was terrified to look at the passenger side seat.
There was a presence there. I knew it for certain. The officer who came on the
scene told me I was lucky. No Duh. This should have been far worse. From the
marks on the pavement and the time frame in which witnesses said it happened,
the truck was estimated at falling at a rate of 120 miles per hour.
The sensations of the day stayed
with me for a long time. I didn’t feel the presence again after that day. I
remained curious about it, but it was gone.
I moved on with life and spent a number of years caring for my mother.
The presence didn’t bother me, not a single time, while I was occupied with my
mom, busy with the closing of her house and the move back to Baytown .
Three weeks ago, I sat quietly in
the car as I drove to the grocery store. The air pressure changed. My throat
tightened. The sounds from the radio faded into the distance.
It has been back three times
since.
After my list of chores swirled in
my head this morning, as I sat in my chair, as the TV blared morning news and
game show reruns, I mentally tell it to let me know who it is. I didn’t even
realize I had stopped typing for that brief moment. It was fainter this time,
but it was there.
It was more than enough for me to get up out of my chair and end my pretense of doing nothing today. Not only do I have voices in my noodle creating lists and labeling stuff, I have something else occupying my space. Maybe it is the angel of death. I've often said I am going to go out of this life early while holding a drink in one hand and a medium rare steak in the other.
