I’ve always felt that my son (my firstborn) has had a particular awareness about him. I know we all cherish our children, and know that they are special and gifted in some way…but something about his presence and how others react to him has always been quite remarkable. The awareness I mentioned, is not only in regards to how he interprets living beings, but I’m pretty convinced that it’s more than that – that he can connect with more than just the visceral world. He is currently 4 years old.
The first set of significant experiences that made me raise an eyebrow or two was when he was about 15 months old. We were living on the west coast, but then were called back east because of a death in our extended family. My husband couldn’t get off of work, so we traveled without him. I wasn’t quite sure how I would handle my baby at a large, conservative, Catholic funeral (the faith and culture of the deceased, but not of our own), but what was important was that we were there. At the funeral home, the tone, was, as expected, somber and silent. But my son seemed to understand that this was not a place for frolicking, and was surprisingly respectful of the situation. Of course, there were a few moments of giggles and laughter – when prompted by others who joined us, but for the most part his behaviour was appropriate for the time. At one point, he approached the casket, stood up on the small kneeling step, and stretched up high on his toes trying to see the deceased. It brought a smile to some faces there and he came back over to me where I sat. He looked at me and said “Okay, Mommy, Okay”. I assumed at the time, it was his method of comfort of some type – he was only 15 months old and perhaps he heard it from around the room. As the mourners approached the casket he watched them, yet seemed to be watching someone else, just behind them all. When my stepmother and the husband of the deceased kneeled at the casket, my son joined them, put his hands on their backs and said, “okay…okay”.
He made it through the funeral at the church with a demeanor impressive of any adult – which took me by surprise and much to my relief. This was a simple church, and the power of the moment, I suppose made an impression on him. He fell asleep on the way to the cemetery, and slept through the internment. The rest of the day went on as usual.
The next day I returned to the cemetery to visit some graves of some other relatives that I had not been to in a very, very long time. The cemetery is absolutely beautiful – so diligently cared for, and a lovely place for repose. It’s quite vast and isolated, so I gave my son the run of the place as I searched for the markers. As he skipped through the grass he would stop sometimes and say “Hi!” and then move on, rolling down a hill, thumping himself down and giggling. He stopped a few times before he finally came upon the marker of my great-grandmother. The grave that I had yet to find. He put his hand on the stone and just smiled at me. I was speechless.
Through the months (as he’s not really old enough yet to refer to time in years), he’s demonstrated some behavior akin to felines…when people joke that they are speaking with fairies. Just little moments few and far between where it seems as though he’s connecting to something – sometimes with words, sometimes not. Then you tap him on the shoulder and he comes back and moves on with life. I spoke with his pediatrician about it, and there seems to be no cause for concern – not that I really was, but it made my mother feel better.
But tonight really made me catch my breath. We went out to dinner at a new restaurant down the road a bit from our home. (We’re in a new development in what was rural Florida, so everything is a “bit down the road”, but development is encroaching bit by bit every day). My husband had come in a separate car and he left as such and took our daughter with him. We needed to pick up some milk so we stopped at the 7-11 which is adjacent, got out, got back in the car and went on our merry way. But before I pulled out of the driveway and into the street he said, “Over there, Mama, over there – look at the ghosts!”,
and I replied, “Where, honey?”
“Over THERE”
As I was driving and he was behind me I couldn’t see to where he was pointing, so I asked, “Outside the car?”
“No, inside the car,”
“In the car?”
“Yes, Mommy, next to you.”
“Is it one ghost or more?”
“Two”
“Can you tell me what they look like? Man? Woman?”
“Both. But they’re little ghosts – a boy and a girl…”
“Are they sad? Are they happy?”
“They’re sad. Both of them are very sad. And they’re right there, Mommy, and sad.”
I continued on down the road. When I turned into the entrance of the development he said, “they’re gone now Mommy. The ghosts are gone. They’re aren’t any ghosts in Florida (he thinks our development is Florida – and hasn’t quite yet grasped the concept that Florida is a state and how big it is).
What made the experience so remarkable was that just last week, our community experienced the loss of a middle-school age boy who shot himself, and a kindergarten age girl who died suddenly of, as yet, unexplained causes…in the parking lot of that 7-11 in her mother’s arms. As far as I am aware, he does not know about these events – he was not with me when I found out about them, nor have I discussed it around him. I suppose it is possible that he may have heard something at pre-school…but the events are so recent…I don’t know, it seems like a stretch. Four-year olds are not that prone to gossip as of yet – though I suppose the teachers may have discussed it just as news among themselves.
So that’s it. There’s my experience as of late, or rather, my son’s. The Splendor of Light…his name means, as it turns out. I didn’t even realize it at the time – it wasn’t part of the process of putting his name together. But coincidentally, my daughter’s name means the same thing. I suppose that’ neither here nor there, but it was a realization I made just a few months ago. And the name of the town we now live in seems derived from Litha, - which I just found out about last week – the whole light and life abundant, the Sun God reaching the peak of his strength. A town that we decided to move to, on a complete lark, in the middle of nowhere (at the time), 3,000 miles away from a place we adored. Again, maybe all of that means nothing…
But there it all is for what it’s worth. I just wanted to put it all out there – to perhaps someone of an open mind who might at least respect the story…thanks for your time.
