Saturday, January 8, 2011

Being Fatalistic

Fatalism: the belief that all events are predetermined and therefore inevitable.

I never knew that I was fatalistic. I think someone told me I am. When did that start? When my mother kept scaring me about the bogeyman hiding around every corner. How can I survive that?
I do remember thinking early on that I would never reach the age of 40. Maybe in my 20's that sounded old.
My youngest daughter told me yesterday that most people reach a mental age they like living in; and they stay there mentally; even as their body ages. I tell people I am mentally 23.  Don't I sound 23?

Today when I leave the house, I may say to my daughters: Remember to feed the dog, in case, I die.
Here are our financial papers, in case, we don't make it home tonight.
I seriously think my family should put on my burial urn:
"In Case, I Die"
 Of course, anyone reading it, on an urn, may think that I am still alive somewhere.  I may have an earthly death, but I don't plan on being dead spiritually.

A few years ago, maybe 8. I had a good friend who died. She was a neighbor, my senior and my adviser on any issue I brought to her; although, we ran in different social groups; and although, we joked how the year she got married, I was born; we were still soul mates in some unidentifiable way.
Unidentifiable because she was a very strict Catholic and I was just a renegade Christian. She followed the rules and I did not.
She would not be a good Christian if she didn't try to persuade me to go to her church.
I politely said: I like to talk to God: one on One. I don't need the Pope, a priest or preacher; especially a man, telling me what God thinks. After all, God could be a female.

For years we would walk around the lake and talk.  After her husband had an unexpected turn with cancer, she gradually started deteriorating too. First, it was dementia. She hated to give up driving.
She knew her mind was going and she would get mad when her family treated her like a helpless child.
I remember driving her home one day from the store. We were driving down one of our housing streets.
She said, " Where are we? "
I said, "Marie, if you don't like people questioning your wits, don't ask that question."

When she passed, I had a dream. She came to me to say good-bye because I didn't go to her funeral.
I was not comfortable with her family or her church friends. Her church had cliques in which they gather and gossip. I never liked cliques.
I will never forget the week Marie's daughter divorced.  Being a strict Catholic, she was devastated. Yet, a gaggle of church women came walking down the sidewalk;
seeing Marie with me, a stranger to them, they honked," We're so sorry, " as they continued walking by. Marie just started crying. I had never seen Marie cry; and it just reminded me of why I don't go to church. 

In my dream, she said she could not stay because her children needed her more. It was a short visit.

Last year, I decided to have my hair professional cut by my neighbor who worked at the local salon. While sitting in the chair, Roxy told me she had, also, been a close friend of Marie's; although it has been around 8 years since her passing. Like me, Roxy, had her own social group, being from Peru; and she did not socialize with Marie's group. 
I told her I had a dream about Marie, the day of her funeral. Roxy was surprised and relieved when I told her. She also had the same dream and was afraid others would think she was crazy.

Because I felt close to Marie I wanted to know how she was doing; and if she was O.K.  I was sorry she left my dream so quickly; but the following night of her funeral; I had another dream that I felt was related to her passing.

The Dream 
I was standing in a dark void alone. Out of the dark, I could see an enlisted young man approaching me. He had a green military uniform on with stripes. When he opened his mouth, all his teeth were rotten.
I kept thinking: what does that mean? Is it important to know?
He reached out for my hand. I was not afraid to hold his hand; in spite of, his deterioration. Once I touched his hand, I felt a protective warmth around my entire being.  I felt it was the presence of God because I had never had that kind of feeling from any human on earth. A safe feeling I had never felt before or since I was touched.
I did not want to go, from that place; but I knew I would.
I knew I was only being reassured that Marie was fine.

For all those who worry....when we finally go?  Just remember, someone is waiting for you....

with bad teeth.   And I still don't know what that means?

No comments:

Post a Comment