SCARY

When I wrote the earlier posts about my sisters joining our new bodies in Dallas, I was only joking. This is just the type of crazy thing that run through a creative mind. Then . . . suddenly my oldest sister, Sharon, booked a flight to Texas to see her sons and grandchildren, coincidentally on the same weekend I was going to visit my son and granddaughters in Dallas, the three little girls in the picture, Taylor, Elle and Remy. Sharon and I both came back, and Linda was ready to undergo major surgery on her back. While in Dallas, I bought a house, not far from where my son and the girls live. Then Linda told me her surgery has been cancelled because her surgeon has cancer. Well, I'm on my way to Dallas in thirty days. Maybe we're reallyl going to join our new bodies! Why fight so hard to keep these worn out bodies functioning? Sometimes you just have to let go and let God send you in the right direction.

Today I had this strange, isolated feeling, as if I was the one of three people alive in the world. I decided to go to a movie, and picked a theater that is right across from a cemetery. I was chatting with my sister, Linda, just before I went into the parking structure. This morning, my teeth were hurting, so I made an appointment with my dentist. When I called my sister, she told me she had just undergone gum surgery. We sound exactly alike, and in recent years, have had a standing joke going that we're two people sharing one body. Out of the blue, I remember saying, "Maybe we're dead, Linda!". When I made my way to the floor where the theater was located, I glanced at the cemetery and saw all these cars lined up, obviously going either to or from a funeral. At least I had a good showing.

My beautiful friend, Mary, suffered a stroke recently. She said one of her legs is paralized but they are rehabiltating her. Strange, you know, because I'm hobbling around on crutches. When I first moved into my house in Marina del Rey, I got lost one night and ended up at Holy Cross Cemetery. A man came up to me and asked me if I was Deacon Raphael and if I was there to attend the rosary. Silly me, I said yes. I mean, why not check out the rosary and whether he realized it or not, Raphael is the name of an archangel. I thought the place was a convent or something. There's a great place in Santa Barbara that used to be a convent. I happened upon it one day and met these wonderful ladies. I go there all the time on retreats, and one of the ladies, Sister Pauline, traveled with me to Fatima several years back, right after 9/11. (If you're interested in our Fatima trip, its in one of the posts on this blog.)

Okay, I drive up and park in front of this large white building. When I went inside, I met two little girls at the front door and one said she was lost. The other said her name was Fatima, which made me think I was hallucinating. After speaking with the lost girl for awhile, I figured out she was there for a funeral and had wandered off from her parents. We finally took her to the right place and I took off.

When I came home after this strange experience, I called my friend Mary and told her what had happened. She cackled and said, "Never let them put you in a box." I told her that must be the reason we need cell phones. We both had a good laugh, imagining ourselves calling someone and telling them to come and get us because we were trapped inside a coffin. Hey, who knows. Maybe I did die today, and that's the reason no one returned my calls.

Now I just thought of something else. What if the so-called house I'm buying in Dallas is actually a cemetery plot? I'm telling you, that's just the kind of thing that would happen to me. Everyone would be too busy and I'd have to arrange my own funeral. Life is fun if you look at it through a slanted lens. Even something as frightening as your own death might be no different than what I've just described. You know, you have to hang around and take care of all your unfinished business. If you were at my funeral today, drop me an email. As hard as life gets, a smile can always make it better.

Nancy