I originally signed up for this MGC gig as just a series of guest posts. Then it was every other Sunday. Now the other Sunday person is too busy, and I’ve been filling in every week. We all know the reward for a job well done is a harder job, but the reward for consistency is also more work.
Which kind of sucks when the well runs dry. The last week has involved a road trip for a friend’s memorial service, and then diving back into work, while trying to get some major projects done with half the time we thought we’d have. But tempted as I am to blow this spot off, and crankily declare “maybe if I stop posting every week , the rest of MGC will finally fill the hole!”… well, consistency, competency, and keeping things going are things I value. So here I am, and trying to entertain you.
Although speaking of showing up… when at our friend’s house, several of the group made the remark that they could still feel Bob there. And I’m all “okay, I don’t, but not going to knock it.” Because more things in heaven and earth, Horatio. Especially when a holster goes flying off the safe across the room without anyone near it.
…then I find myself doing entirely normal, ordinary things like one does, and just when I was standing in front of a sink about to wash my hands, something spooked me right the hell out of the room. I have pretty poor situational awareness, but if there’s one thing surviving flying in Alaska taught me, it’s when your gut tells you to get the hell out of dodge, or to stop trying to land somewhere, or to take one look at the perfectly innocuous pass or clouds ahead and veer sharply off… get out first, think later. Saved my life a few times.
So I’m standing in the hall wondering what the heck just happened, and shake my head, and go wash my hands elsewhere. Because washing hands is important. It wasn’t until the next day that someone mentioned that Bob did not die in bed. No, he’d died elsewhere in the house. In fact, he’d landed exactly where I spooked, though the friend didn’t know that bit.
Thanks, Bob. I showed up, you showed up, and you got me one last time.
*sinal salute*
Mad Genius Club 
That sounds very much like Bob.
Yeah, just enough odd things happen that I just can’t be an Atheist.
And about the well running dry on things to blog about? That’s why I write one Friday a month. Period. And often have trouble with that. I don’t know how daily bloggers manage.
I used to discount much of people’s talk of experiences like knowing a loved one passed without being told, etc. Until this past October when my grandmother passed away. I was sitting at home and at 1015 I suddenly felt ill, really upset stomach and back pain. About a minute later I got an automated call from the nursing home that said they were testing their notification system. Then my parents called a couple of minutes later to say that the nursing home had just called and that grandma had died and they were headed over. When they got there, less than 2 blocks away, her oatmeal was still warm. Time of death, 1015. Weird coincidence, or her spirit passing?
My mother went from an aortic aneurysm that didn’t just go out, it began leaking. My sister and I were at her deathbed; she had stopped breathing several times over the hours, but always started again – until the last one. Which both my sister and I knew WAS the last one, instantly.
I am an agnostic because I CAN’T explain “why.” (I get into occasional arguments over quantum physics – it’s a very good mathematical description for “what” – but cannot explain “why” – and the pseudo-philosophy that has grown up around it is almost certainly wrong. If there is a God – or Gods – or just the Universe – dice are NOT being rolled.)
I could never be an atheist either. The world is far too complex. It has too much of its own mind. Coincidences can be very odd and unlikely. Entering a place and feeling its vibes, hostile or friendly.
There is something there, far more than just us. Look at leaves in the fall? I know the mechanics of leaf colors changing but why aren’t they all brown and the same shape? That was an aesthetic decision.
Congratulations on making the effort. I, for one, appreciate it.
My dad died in 2013. In 2014, my mother broke her hip and had surgery. My mother also had Alzheimer’s. I was with her in the hospital after the surgery when she turned her head toward the corner of the room and said, “Of course, dear, I know.” and I knew immediately she was talking to my father. She hadn’t been that coherent in years. I freaked out. Left soon after and told my brother. We both think that since Dad always worried about Mom that he’d come by to make sure her recovery went well. Doc said it was the easiest hip he’d ever done on 79-year old, and he was shocked at what good physical shape she was in. She was walking in record time. Thanks, Dad.
I really hope that ghosts are not real – what a hideous fate! But I’m certainly not going to rule it out.
I have a very different reason for disbelieving in returning spirits. I loathe that about the various Christmas movies with a dead parent showing up. Why does it happen to THAT person but not everyone? If I’m a grieving child, the last thing I want to see is someone else’s dad showing up as snowman. But, just because I don’t understand the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one.