Tag Archives: experiences

Going out on a limb ….part 5.

I’m just going to keep putting these out here until I run out. If you’re reading them and seeing me differently, so be it. I’m finding it quite cathartic…. and as Bon Jovi says, It’s My Life.

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Weird experience #5, another from my days in the hospice with my  late mother.

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The Crash.

Added: Wednesday, July 9th 2014 at 5:25am by rivergirl

As I said before, I brought a lot of pictures to my mothers hospice room. I hung them on the walls, taped them to the nightstand and tucked them in the tv screen. I wanted to surround her with love and happy memories.

There were many of me and my husband, and our pets and special times we had shared with my mother….

The nurses and staff loved it. They told me it lets them meet their patients in a different way, which considering the never ending sadness they deal with… I thought was very touching.

Most of the pictures were mine, but there were 3 framed photographs that had hung on my mother’s walls for 50 years… so I brought them too.

Here they are:

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Momma & her father

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My mother and her father on Jones Beach.

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My mother and father on their wedding day at the Stork Club.

And this one:

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A very old photo of my mother, in her 20’s, and her first love… Frank.

He was much older and very wealthy. He introduced a young, naive girl born to Austrian immigrant parents who lived in a cold water tenement flat…. to a world of art, culture and high society. They were together for many years, but never married. In 1957 he broke it off and introduced her to a junior partner in his firm….my father. They were married a year later.

I grew up knowing all about Frank. It was no secret she loved him and it in no way diminished the love she felt for my father. First love is first love. It never bothered me.

Now fast forward 50 odd years and her daughter is sitting alone with her in a hospice room waiting for the end. I cried. All day, all night, on and off for days.

During the first afternoon, I was sitting on the rock hard couch thinking about her life, my life and everything in between. I thought about my dad. About how much he loved her and what a good marriage they had.

And then I heard a crash.

The picture of my mom and Frank had fallen off the wall.  It fell face down on the floor and the glass was smashed to bits.

No one had slammed a door, no one had knocked the wall from the next room. There was no seismic shock or tremor that rattled the building. No airplane flew too low and shook the windows. It just crashed.While all the other pictures stayed right where they were.

Apparently while my mother loving Frank didn’t bother me….it clearly bothered my dad. And he told me so in no uncertain terms.

The photo stayed face down on a side table until I brought it home after she passed.

Call it coincidence if you want….

But I know better.

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Going out on a limb…. part 4.

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What is it they say? In for a penny, in for a pound. If you read  this blog I wrote a week or so ago about a strange incident with my father’s antique clock…. and if you didn’t think I was a total nutcase, please continue and blame Swinged Cat .

He asked me to share my weird experiences a while back and that means telling stories from one of the worst times in my life, the death of my mother. So here’s another of the odd moments in my life I can’t explain.

Tick Tock….

Added: Tuesday, July 8th 2014 at 4:40am by rivergirl

As horrible as the passing of my mother was, there were a few moments I will treasure….for very different reasons. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to share them here.

When we moved her from the hospital to hospice, she was in pain…but awake and relatively alert. It was a lovely place and I had visions of spending time with her in the gardens listening to the birds…

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Sadly, that wasn’t to be as the cancer was too far advanced. Her decline was so rapid, strong medication was required.

After the first night of listening to her cry in pain, I gave the okay for maximum morphine. She rested more easily, but was so heavily doped up she was unaware of her surroundings. The gardens and peaceful sculptures turning gently in the breeze were more for me… and this lonely bench near the woods became my salvation when the sadness was too heavy to bear.

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I went to her room the next morning loaded with flowers, framed photographs and personal items to brighten her space. But again…. she was unaware.

I stroked her brow, held her hand, and told her I loved her.

Nothing.

In the 5 days she was there, she only spoke once.

“Whose clock is that? I hear ticking.”

I was confused, as there were no clocks in the room. It meant nothing to me at the time. Just the gibberish of a heavily morphined mind.

Or was it?

Those of you who know me, know I am not a religious person. The hypocrisy of the modern church makes me cringe. And when the hospice staff asked me if I wanted a priest to sit with me, I said no. The thought of the black crow of death hovering over me spilling platitudes did not give me the least bit of solace.

So imagine my surprise when a quiet, unassuming lesbian chaplain became my confident during our stay. She listened, she consoled… she was there. We spoke of many things… least of all religion. I ended up spilling my entire history with my mother to her and felt a giant weight lift from my shoulders. They say that the right people come into your life at the right times…. that statement doesn’t seem so trite to me now.

She told me she believed that everyone has someone who helps them pass over. And it eased my mind to think that my father was waiting for my mother at the end of her journey.

She asked me if my mother had spoken and I related that one meaningless phrase.

Her eyes got wide, she bowed her head and then just stared at me. I couldn’t figure out what I was missing…. until she reminded me of the story I had told her the day before. The one about my father’s broken clock ticking after 29 years of silence.

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Make of it what you will…. but that lovely little woman held my hand and said she knew it was my father’s way of saying he was there. Waiting.

Tick, tock.

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Going out on a limb…. Part 3.

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You’re back! Even though your eyes hurt from rolling so far up in your head? I appreciate that. Try not to think of me differently, I’m still the same margarita swilling, rock obsessed, chicken loving  Mainiac (capital M thank you very much) you know and love. This is just another quirk to add to the list.

So that was strange experience number two. My reading with a psychic. It seems odd all these years later to even admit that out loud, but the simple act of rereading my blog from that time has lightened my heart again. If I took nothing else away from that weird and wonderful night it was the fact that our loved ones are never really gone.  I truly believe that now…. and it’s a great comfort.

So here’s my last episode of that spiritual adventure. The aftermath.

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I think I opened the floodgates….

Added: Wednesday, January 30th 2013 at 5:29am by rivergirl

Since my experience last Saturday, I’ve told a few close friends about the psychic I saw and how she made a believer out of me… if just for one night. I was a bit fearful of their reactions… expecting eye rolls and chuckles. But I swear it was like they were all waiting for that particular door to open so they could tell their stories.

It was completely bizarre…. A totally no nonsense conservative told me of visitations from his late mother. An old girlfriend I went to school with and thought I knew everything about, admitted she’s been seeing a psychic for 15 years. A down to earth grandmother of 7 told me about her numerous feelings of deja vu. A man that works with my husband, the most rigidly analytical mind in the office, brought these books for me to read and confessed he is a devout believer.

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I skimmed a few chapters of these and think this woman is a flake……but whatever. It was the thought that counts.

I guess what really struck me is most people don’t feel comfortable talking about this subject until they know you’re on board.

So… I’m putting it out there.

I told you of my mind blowing re-connection with my late father. Are any of you willing to share your other worldly experiences?

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I’d love to hear your stories… if you’re willing to share. And yes, I have a few more strange things in the archives. Experiences from time spent at my mother’s bedside during her last days in hospice. Maybe I’ll post those as well….

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I’m going out on a limb here….

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I’ve been meaning to share this with you for a while now… ever since Swinged Cat  asked me about it in the comments of this blog. 

“It” being strange and/or supernatural events. If that’s not your thing, no problem….  feel free to skip the next few posts.  It wasn’t my thing either. Until it happened to me. Not so easy to ignore then.

As most of you know I lost my father when I was 14.  I was an only child of older parents and a total daddy’s girl.

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Dad and me, baby

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His loss shook my world to it’s core. Heck, I’m 57 years old, and to be honest I still haven’t gotten over it.  Anyway…. back in 2013 my best friend gave me a very odd Christmas gift.  “An Evening with Spirits” which was an hour long private session with a psychic. Now before you roll your eyes (like I did) it should be noted this was her daughter’s old college roommate and not some loon on the street corner. She’s traveled the world, studied numerous religions and spiritual disciplines, worked with the most respected people in the field ( you’re rolling your eyes again, I know…  because I did it as well). But I assure you, my girlfriend is the most down to earth, no nonsense, grounded New Englander you’re apt to meet so if she said this woman was the real deal and forked out a major amount of money for a reading? I had to go along.

The following is copied from my old blog site, and while I normally don’t do that type of thing…. it was written right after the experience and was a harbinger of things to come. Read on if you’re interested.

A Twilight Zone moment….. For Friends Only

Added: Saturday, January 26th 2013 at 6:38am by rivergirl

Friends only because I really don’t need a larger crowd of people thinking I’m crazy.

As you know, I’m using my unique Christmas present this weekend and will be visiting the psychic I posted about earlier. Me, seeing a psychic. And they say pigs don’t fly.

So yesterday I’m sitting on the couch reading an interesting book about Tibet. It was full of legend and lore and spirits and demons…..which got me thinking about my upcoming reading. Basically I was wondering if it would be amazing or a total waste of time.  Contact with my late father would be a dream, but we all know how rarely those come true. Flooded with bittersweet memories of my father, I put the book down and looked up at our mantle where an antique English clock of my father’s sits.

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It’s a pretty little thing that my mother gave us 29 years ago when my husband and I moved into our first home.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. Hasn’t for the entire 29 years we’ve owned it and since it has a rather special pedigree….

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I never wanted to take it to just any repair shop to be fixed. Call me lazy, call me cheap… but there you have it…. it doesn’t work.

Until yesterday when I was sitting on the couch thinking about my father and the damn thing started ticking.

I’m not kidding…. I almost had a heart attack.

My jaw dropped, and I think I started shaking.

I jumped up to make sure I wasn’t hearing things and I swear by all that’s holy the stupid thing was working.  After more than 29 years.

WTH!

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Crazy lady hearing things? I’d be the first to say so if it hadn’t happened to me. The clock ticked for almost half an hour, and naturally stopped right before my husband got home from work.

Other people talk about experiencing weird things like this and I scoff. But I’m here to tell you when it happens to you? All bets are off.

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That’s trippy dude.

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The husband’s birthday was this month, and for the past decade I’ve been giving him experience gifts rather than material things…. because we all know the man has more than enough stuff. Over the years I’ve gifted him a trip to a spooky old hotel in the Poconos that felt like the Overlook in Stephen King’s The Shining…

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The place was huge!

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So huge I could never manage to get a shot of the entire thing in frame.  And we were literally the only guests.

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Room after room.

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Floor after floor.

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All to ourselves.

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I expected to see the twins every time we walked to our room. Uber creepy.

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I’ve given him beer making classes….

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Look at all those serious student faces.

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And seeing him stir an actual pot? Was well worth the student fee.

I even gave him  falconry training.

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That was awesome. If you ever have the chance, take it.

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They really are spectacular creatures.

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And hey, where else do you get to walk around with a bag of decapitated quails?

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But last year brought Covid and the romantic getaway to the coastal resort I chose was cancelled. This year? We didn’t go anywhere either so along with a few Marine Corps themed items and a handful of vintage Red Sox collectibles… I got him something for the man cave.

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Doesn’t look impressive you say?

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Trust me, it is.

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I’m imaging many alcohol induced oohs and ahs when we plop this baby on the bar.

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Even better than rocks…

 

I’ve been known to give some interesting birthdays gifts in my time.

Some elicit laughter, some tears….

Some? Downright befuddlement.

It’s all good.

In the past few years, I’ve gifted my husband with experiences as well as tangible items.

2014 was a beer making lesson.

 

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Friends and family joined us for what I thought would be a laugh a minute celebration…

 

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Ah, look at those happy faces.

(Word of warning –  if you’re thinking about trying it? There’s a lot more to beer than drinking. And I don’t recommend any of it.)

Beer drinking? Fun!

Beer making?

 

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Not so much.

It’s a long involved process…. that I completely stopped caring about two hours in.

 

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Poor husband.

Look at him… he had his tasting glass ready and it wasn’t anywhere near finished.

Birthday experience gift rating on a scale of 1 to 10?

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Last year I nailed it with a School of Falconry class.

This was fabulous and we both enjoyed it immensely.

 

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Husband got up close and personal with a Harris Hawk and a Peregrine Falcon.

And they were both beautiful creatures.

 

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Learning to handle them can be challenging.

 

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As well as a little intimidating.

Of course, they were nothing compared to the instructor.

 

 

She was downright terrifying.

(I think the husband had flashbacks to boot camp and reverted to a quivering PFC before my eyes.)

But baggie of dead quails aside?

 

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An awesome day.

Birthday experience gift rating?

A definite 10!

 

So this year, along with the rock and other assorted presents…

I gave him a helicopter.

 

 

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Okay, calm down.

Those babies go for $425,000.

I gave him the experience of learning how to fly a helicopter.

Half an hour class instruction, half an hour flying time with 2 guests.

I’m not sure when we’ll do it, most likely after the weather warms up.

But I’m guessing it’s going to be a good one!

Assuming we don’t die in a flaming fireball of a crash…

That’s bound to reduce the rating.