Sunday, May 20, 2012

A Reading

It's been a long time since I wrote an entry to this blog, and I possibly would not now if not for the need to place this down somewhere where I can refer back to it. So here goes.

Last night I was invited to a lady's night out. It was friends meeting to enjoy a break away from our responsibilities, and a night to enjoy each other's company, My friend, Lucie, invited me.She is my oldest friend, and although I've met the other three ladies involved, I did not really know them. One lady was graduating with her bachelor's degree in psychology tonight. Another lady was a wife and mother and was enjoying a day away from work as well as and evening away from the family. The last lady was a wife and mother, as well as a medical transcriptionist. She's also a psychic medium, and she hosted the evening.

We enjoyed ourselves. We had a few giggles, a little to drink and a little to nibble on.

And then our hostess pulled out her tarot cards.She didn't ask me to shuffle the deck or even cut it. In fact she turned to me and asked if my mother had passed. Of course, and just like most other people, it was a hard passing. She wanted to know where the rift was. That really caught my breath. #1. because I had spoken of my sister earlier and not with loving regard. #2. because I'm really terrifically bothered by this so called rift. And it doesn't end with my sister. My response was simply "Everywhere." My new friend said that my Mom sees more now that ever before. That made me think that maybe my Mom realizes I'm not as bad as I always felt I was, or even where the feelings of inadequacy comes from. I wanted to scream out, "See it was all their faults. I had nothing to do with it." I've thought about that more since then and I have to realize that in the situation we were in, we all struck out at each other, making selfish demands on each other, and making life worse than it should have been. We couldn't be blamed for my father's drinking, but we could be blamed for our own selfish reactions. All of us, including my sister. Ma said she's happy that I'm learning to deal with this. I'm at a point where I can talk about it without dwelling on it or getting angry all over again. She said that the others would have to find their way, but at their speed. She wanted to know who I was concerned about. I said it was my second brother. I don't see him enough. What I have seen concerns me because I wonder if his life isn't coming apart. I'm concerned that he might do something desperate. My new friend didn't give me an answer, but she did point out that she hadn't received a red flag. We talked about my sister. I'm concerned about her sobriety. Where my friend didn't respond to that so much, she said that I have good instincts and that I tend to second guess myself. When I make an assessment, I need to stick with it. I agreed. She's right.

Lucie, at one point got up to get a glass of pop. We were only feet from each other when my new friend said something that kind of blew both of our minds. I just wish I could remember what it was. It will come to me later, I'm sure. What I remember was turning to Lucie, because I knew she would recognize that thing our friend said. Lucie was watching me and rubbing goose bumps away. At that point my friend asked me where my grandfather was and why wasn't he in our lives. Then she asked me about two families. At that point I had to catch my breath. There were things we talked about throughout the evening that she could have expanded on if she were a fake. Not this time. This is not something that comes up in conversation ever. Two things came of that. First my Mom said it was okay to talk about, and secondly, I declared my feelings on the subject of not talking about it. My Mother had a hard life. Her childhood was far from ideallic, and her marriage was pretty bad. When I needed her the most, she took a very hard step in order to help me. In my eyes the woman was a hero. To pretend that the difficulties she lived through didn't exist is to deny a huge part of the woman she became. I'm glad that subject came up as my nieces approached me a couple of weeks ago about my maternal Grandmother's side of the family. They had questions about what happened to my Grandma. It was a medical situation that my mother had to deal with. Most of the family is aware of it, but at the same time embarrassed by it. I was concerned if I told the girls the truth that their Dad and my other siblings would be angry. I went ahead anyway. As I said, to deny parts of Ma's life is to deny the person she became. Then again, I wonder if their Dad didn't send them in my directions anyway. My friend, though, told me that Ma is okay with telling her story, and that the problem with my Grandmother was misdiagnosed.

My friend went on from there. She pointed out that earlier I mentioned learning about my Native American heritage not very long ago. My my material Grandmother was half Menominee Indian. My friend said that the artistic streak we all enjoy comes from that side of the family. Also, that we enjoy a gift for the mystical. She asked me if my daughter was artistic. "Oh, wait," she said. "It's your daughter going to art school." Yes, Becki has a year and a half to go before earning her bachelor's degree in commercial art. My friend pointed out that even though my Mom didn't know Becki well or for long, she had a connection with her. She comes to see Becki and she brings the little girl with her. I have no idea who this little girl would be unless it could be that I had a miscarriage a year or so after we were married. I lost it when my Dad died. I know that Becki has seen Mom. She hasn't said anything lately, and when I asked her last night, Becki kind of shook her head as if unsure. My friend said I inherited that mystical streak, and that I could do what she does. Yes, I said, I'd like to. Sort of. I told her how I used to read palms. I gave it up when I came across a palm of young family friend had a short and weak lifeline. It was very hard to ignore.

I asked if my most cherished dream would happen. She said that Mom told her to tell me that I have to take care of my health first. I'm eating wrong. I need to revert  back to my Native American ancestors and eat what they ate. That maybe I need to go to a powpow. I don't know about the powpow, but I do know this. Refined food plays hell with my digestion. I pointed at the Italian bread on the table. It was crusty and rustic. I told her, "I can eat this, but force me to eat Wonder Bread and you couldn't pry me off your toilet." I found out accidentally that I am allergic to gluten. If I can stay away from bread, pasta and potatoes, I'd be a lot healthier. She said make small changes and everything will fall into place. But I have to concern myself with my health first. She asked me if I enjoyed reading. That's the understatement of the year. (This might be where Lucie and I shared that look.) I don't enjoy reading. I am obsessed with it. When I was little, I used to take a flashlight to bed so I could continue to read. I was thinking about it before going last night. Ma once said that when I got married, she expected to find my husband as well as books, kids and animals in my bed. A, yep. If it isn't a dog, it's a cat. Or two or three. She asked if I were into e-books. Yes, I got a Kindle for Christmas. She said she didn't see me publishing my stories in the paper version, but as either e-books or a blog of some sort. Tried that. At its best, this blog fostered 19 followers. It's been so long since I wrote anything I'm not expecting readers now.

I asked about my Uncle, Ma's brother. He's in hospice and he's hanging on. I asked why he hasn't left yet. Why is he still hanging on. Ma said that someone is holding him here. He needs to be given permission to leave, but that one of his care takers sees that their lives are intertwined, and that person couldn't survive without my Uncle. I understand that. She also said that he had help breathing. He's dying of lung cancer.

I asked about my Dad and if he is all right. She asked me if he drank hard liquor. No, he drank beer. Well, he and the one who drank hard liquor are up there together, drinking and smoking cigars. When he comes to me, I smell cigar smoke. She's right. I do. The one who drinks hard liquor has to be his younger brother.

I think I got it all down. She said that she would let everyone go at that point. Oh, she asked whose birthday was next, and she said that I should get him yellow Mylar balloons with cars on them. That person is car crazy. No, that person is Mustang crazy. I have to remember this. I can see myself handing Jon the balloons, I'd say I could buy the balloons,, "Happy birthday. This is from Grandma Jane."

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