Remember The Moon (15 page)

“I’m definitely not there yet. I still cry into my pillow every night. Not exactly sex kitten material,” Molly said.

“I still buy my undies at Safeway!” Kristie said. The women all laughed. “But I’ve thought about dating...” she continued, looking thoughtful. “I’m terrified. I haven’t dated in over twenty years. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

I wish she would.
The thought came from Ben. We all looked at him.
Kristie’s still so closed to me in many ways. She can’t seem to get beyond being my widow. I feel stuck in this place with her, tethered to her need for me to come back. I wish she could move on with her life. I just haven’t been able to convince her. Kristie’s very stubborn. But I need to move on as well.

Move on? How do we move on?
I asked.

We begin by relinquishing our attachments to our human selves, and to those we loved in life. It can happen at varying speeds, depending on the depth of our connections in life, or the amount of spiritual awakening we’ve acquired while on Earth. As we move away from earthly pursuits, we transmute into a higher spiritual level. New worlds open up to us. We can begin to plan the next phase of our journey.

“All the more reason you should try dating, Kristie,” Maya said, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, sure, miss hot-to-trot, and what about you?” Kristie said.

We all looked at Maya. Perhaps I clung too tightly to my Earth life. I strove to help Maya and Calder through their grief. Perhaps that drive stemmed from my guilt of my own stupid accident, or tied up somehow in my father’s death. Perhaps I still clung to Maya to prevent her from being with Marcus.

“Me, date? Uh. No. I can’t imagine. It hasn’t even been a year since Jay’s death.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s too soon,” Kristie said, taking a sip of wine.

“But, if you want to know the truth, I have this friend...” Maya looked down at the floor. Did she mean Marcus? Charlie looked at me now. My aura must have muddied, giving away my distress at Maya's declaration.

Chill man, it’s a normal progression. Maya's just testing the waters,
he said.

Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’m starting to think there’s something going on with this friend of Maya's. We both knew him as kids.

And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you want your wife to move on with her life?

Yeah, but not with this guy. He’s an arrogant...

That’s something she will have to discover on her own, Jay.

I’m not sure I can be as cool as you are about Chelsea dating. It’s going to be difficult to see our wives with other men, isn’t it?

I don’t know about that. It’s not like we don’t know who the people are that they’re going to date.

Know who they are? What are you talking about?

C’mon, Jay. Have you forgotten?

Forgotten what?

Oh, dude. It will come back to you. You must know by now that no human relationship is a coincidence. They are planned.
Charlie’s thoughts provoked something like a memory, one I couldn’t quite reach. His truth seemed inaccessible to me in that moment.

“Friend?” Chelsea asked.

“Yeah. Someone I knew a long time ago. My first love, actually. Before Jay.”

The other women looked at each other. “And?”

Maya shrugged. “He lives in Vancouver. It’s not practical.”

“But you obviously like this guy,” Molly said.

Maya pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. She cocked her head slightly as if she could see me sitting beside her. She looked sadder than I had ever seen her. I heard her thought:

I wish I could tell them the truth.

What is the truth, Lenie?
I’m not sure I truly wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Maya said. “I guess I do, but that doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“You know, if you want, you could go and see Liz. She’s that psychic my friend told me about. I haven’t called her yet, but maybe she could give you some insight or something,” Molly said.

“I’ve been thinking of seeing a psychic, actually. She might be perfect.”

“It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I have to admit I’m sort of curious. I’d love to see if she gets anything about Charlie,” Chelsea said.

“Ooh. That sounds fun,” Chelsea said. “I’d be into getting her number.”

“Not me. I think psychics are a bunch of quacks. They just make really good guesses based on what they can tell about you from how you look, the clothes you wear and that sort of thing,” Kristie said. Her aura seemed to shrink with her statement.

“I don’t know. This particular friend who told me about psychics, but she raved about her. Said she picked up all sorts of stuff she couldn’t possibly have known,” Molly said, her brown eyes getting wider with her obvious excitement.

“Maybe, but I still think it’s a crock,” said Kristie, twisting her lips into a look of disapproval.

I wish Kristie would go see that psychic,
” Ben said.
I’d love to be able to communicate with her, tell her I love her.

Can you really be that specific?
I asked him.

I think it depends on the psychic’s abilities, but, yes, I think you can. From my understanding, this Liz woman that Molly is talking about is pretty talented.

At that moment, I heard an unfamiliar voice.
I’m looking forward to meeting you, Jay.

Who’s that?
I asked the voice.

What?
Ben responded.

You didn’t hear that voice?

No. What voice?

A woman’s. Telling me she’s looking forward to meeting me.

If only I could be so lucky. Sounds like you’re going to get the opportunity to talk with Maya, Jay. Through Liz, the psychic. Lucky you,
Ben said.

How does the psychic lady know that already? Maya hasn’t even decided she’s going to go see her yet.

She’s psychic,
Ben said.

“A psychic. What would I even ask her?” Maya said.

“It could be really emotional for you, Maya. Are you sure you want to put yourself through that?” Kristie asked.

“Yeah, I know that might be hard, but it also might be a nice kind of emotional. You know, like a happy feeling that I’m connecting with Jay.”

“And maybe she’ll tell you if you’re going to wind up with Mr. Next Love,” Molly said.

“Oh God, she could tell me that?”

“Maybe...” Molly responded.

“Then, I’m scared shitless!” Maya said, mocking a horrified look. Everyone laughed. “But, OK. I’m game. Molly, will you email me her info?”

I’m not sure I want to know about Maya's new dating life. Can a psychic really predict new love for her?

Liz can only tell Maya what she receives from you or Maya's own guardians. It will be up to you to tell Maya if she will find new love again,
Ben said.

What guardians?
I thought.

We all have guardians, Jay. Have you not met Maya's or Calder's yet?

No. I haven’t even met mine. And how the hell is Maya's love life up to me?

You are well versed with Maya's path. You planned it together, remember?

That’s the problem, Ben. I don’t remember. I don’t remember a thing.

All in good time, my friend. The knowledge will come to you when you’re ready for it.

So I keep hearing.

A
pparently anxious to connect with me in my nefarious world, it didn’t take long for Maya to call the psychic. I was eager to communicate with Maya as well, excited by the prospect of being able to tell her how sorry I was, that I missed and loved her. It seemed an easier way to communicate than inserting myself into the consciousness of crows in hopes that their symbolism would be seen and understood by her. I practiced the tricks I learned from Alice and my dad to alert Maya to my presence – turning on lights by manipulating electrical circuitry with thought; selecting my favorite songs to play on the radio as she drove Calder to school using electrical thoughts to manipulate radio waves; or aligning my presence with the molecules of a particular smell (the orange blossoms of Italy).

I found ways to present myself to Maya in the form of a blackbird or crow. I could only combine my consciousness into that of an animal for very short periods of time, but I enjoyed staring into our living room window from the roof of the garage, unblinking, spying on Maya and Calder and then being able to swoop down to the ground in one swift movement, my altered weightlessness both freeing and confining at once. A heady sensation, being re-united with the yoke of gravity when one is accustomed to being matter-less. I couldn’t be sure if she would notice any of these signs, but grieving people seemed willing and open to any sort of connection with the newly dead.

Molly, in her email to Maya, said her friend raved about Liz’s accuracy, but she admitted her nervousness about making an appointment for herself. For a few days, Maya let the email languish in her inbox, perhaps afraid of unleashing emotions she had carefully put to bed after almost a year of widowhood. I had to cajole Maya into calling Liz, visiting her in a dream and employing dream Liz to walk along the beach with me, hoping she might convince Maya of her legitimacy. I didn’t anticipate that conjuring Liz for my dream was akin to calling her on the phone, pronouncing my desire to communicate with Maya.

By then Christmas arrived, and Maya forgot about the psychic idea in her effort to make it through the holiday, hosting her parents and pretending all was as it had once been. When school started up in the New Year, Maya needed time to recover, but when I sensed she was ready, I visited her in my crow form each day as she ate her breakfast, cawing at her to make the phone call. It took a few weeks for Maya to muster the courage to call, but Liz was prepared, even telling Maya that I had already visited her and that she had been expecting Maya's call.

Liz arrived at the house a few weeks later, a month or so after the one-year anniversary of my death, while Calder played at a friend’s. Maya nervously escorted her into the living room. Outside, the beginnings of tiny, new yellow buds popped against a mud-gray colored sky. The weak March sun spread its ochre hues across the oak floors inside the house, back-lighting the vase of dried flowers from the garden that Maya had picked in the fall. She offered Liz tea and tried to act nonchalant as she put the kettle on to boil and tore open sachets of tea. Liz did not fit the description of a stereotypical psychic. She looked like she had just stepped off the farm, with thick, sand-colored work boots, wide-legged, faded carpenter pants, and a loose-fitting men’s striped shirt. Her hair, a difficult-to-discern shade of grey-brown, shorn into a haphazard almost-mullet, was a long way from the run-of-the-mill, Bugs Bunny version of a psychic, hair pins flying as she peered into her crystal ball.

“Have you been doing this long?” Maya asked.

“I’ve seen dead people since I was a little girl.”

“Did that freak you out?” Maya poured boiling water into the cups and handed one to Liz. Maya walked toward the living room and Liz followed.

“Not really. I didn’t know that I was the only one who could see them. I thought everyone could. I guess I didn’t really understand that those people were dead. To me, they seemed no different than the live ones.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. Would you like to sit here?” Maya gestured to a comfy chair opposite the couch.

“Perfect.”

Maya couldn’t see me sitting on the couch beside her, but I knew she could sense my presence, the downy hairs on her arms rising with goose bumps as they seemed to do whenever I came near her. She looked so small amongst the big brown couch pillows, where she sat clutching a smaller velvety indigo throw pillow on her lap.

“So, your husband’s been very active. Apparently, he really wants to connect with you!”

“I hope so. I’m really anxious to connect with him too.”
Ok, so yeah, I’m excited. I want to be with my wife.

“He’s here now.”

“Really, where?” Maya said, glancing around the room, looking slightly alarmed.

“He’s sitting right beside you.” Now Maya turned toward me and smiled nervously.

Liz took a deep breath and closed her eyes and sat quietly for several minutes. I decided to stand up in front of her and sort of dance around so she could see me.

Can you give me your name?

Liz’s astral voice sounded higher pitched and more melodic than her speaking voice.

My name is Jay.

“Does his name begin with the letter J?”

“His name is Jay.”

“Oh. OK. I thought ‘J’ was the first letter. Funny. It’s his name
and
the first letter to his name. Good. Thank you.” Liz took a quick intake of breath. I sat back down on the couch beside Maya.

Hello, Jay. How are you? Is there something you want to talk to your wife about today? I am at your service.

Wow. Cool. Thanks, Liz. Yes. I’m new at this, but I want to get through to Maya.

Alice appeared on the couch beside me.

“What? You don’t think I can do this alone?” I asked her, a little annoyed.

“I’m just here for moral support and to help with some of the protocols. The usual way to begin when you’re being read by a medium is to tell them the manner of your death. This is the easiest way they have of verifying to the person they are reading for that they have the right spirit.”

How did you die? How did you die?
Liz’s thoughts were loud and insistent, as if she were shouting at me.

I took flight over Howe Sound locked into a BMW-cement boot,
I said sarcastically.

“Isn’t she supposed to know that?” I asked.

Alice shrugged. “Not unless you tell her.”

I concentrated on the car, the impact, it sinking into water, my limp body trapped underwater, arms and hair floating up, dead eyes wide open.

“Oh, no. Don’t show me that. I don’t need to see that,” Liz said aloud and visibly recoiled.

Oops. Sorry.

“Shit! This is hard. I just want to tell her that it’s me!” I swiped at one of the pillows to alleviate my frustration, but the lack of impact made me more so.

“You must be careful with your thoughts,” Alice said. “Sometimes certain images are just too powerful for the living to accept.”

I couldn’t stop my memory from continuing and I watched as they hauled my body onto the deck of the boat, zippering it into a shiny black cocoon, one with little hope of bearing new life. Liz began to tap her chest, then placed her palm over her breast.

“Something about his chest. Not breathing. And I see a great height. Did he fall?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Maya replied. “See? She’s pretty good,” Alice said.

Moremoremore...
Liz begged now.

Damn. I was so stupid. Please tell her how sorry I am.

“His passage was quick, and painless,” Liz said. “He’s sorry he had the accident.”

“Well she got that right at least.”

“Oh, give her a chance,” Alice reprimanded. “She’s just getting to know you. Besides, isn’t that exactly what you want Maya to know?”

“He did shitty things sometimes, had a foul mouth. He was very direct, and didn’t put up with a lot of crap. But he surprised you by always being truthful. He was tall, wasn’t he? Very statuesque, very driven. A great sense of humor, very sarcastic.”

Maya smiled. “Yes, that does describe him well.”

“She has your number,” Alice laughed.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” I grumbled. “But she did say ‘statuesque’.”

“He was also very intelligent, talented and a real charmer...”

“Ha! She
does
seem to have me figured out, all right.” I couldn’t hide my smugness. Maya closed her eyes.

“Yes, he was all of that too.”

I smiled, remembering our meeting in Pompeii and later having dinner in the moonlight.

“Do you have some connection to Italy?” Liz questioned. I was impressed.

“Ohmygosh! Yes! That’s where Jay and I met. Wow! That’s incredible!”

I thought of the grotto we swam into that day. My foreshadowed death.

“Hmm. A tomb? Why is he showing me a tomb? Or a cave? Is this maybe how he died?”

“We swam together in a grotto when we met in Italy. But he also died in the water.”

“Good. OK. Thank you. Maybe that’s why he showed it to me as a tomb. OK.”

“He wants you to know he loves you very much,” Liz said, hiccupping another quick intake of air, as if she had forgotten to breathe for the last five minutes.

“Is she just reading Maya's mind, or is she really picking up messages from me?” I asked Alice.

Alice smiled. “She picks up pure thought, pure love,” she said.

“Tell him I love him very much too,” Maya said, the sadness in her voice unmistakable. Her eyes welled up again with tears, and I tried to catch one in my open palm, but it splashed down onto her dark skirt. Another sunbeam broke through the clouds and streamed in through the windows, glinting against her fiery hair, casting her in a beautiful light. She gazed at the sunbeam with a look of rapture.

“Is that him? Giving me another sign?”

“Yes, it probably is. They love giving signs to let us know they’re still around.”

“I didn’t do that!” I said.

“Go with it.” Alice smiled. I looked at Maya, admiring her beauty. I wished I could talk to her directly and not through this very imprecise, indirect method.

“There is a sense of confusion with this soul – a sense of not being delivered, as if he was in the midst of something and it’s been cut off and he’s not sure where he is.”

“I’m not confused. I’m well aware of being dead.”

“I think Liz senses that you are a developing soul,” Alice said.

“Developing? Is that what we call it?”

“Well, he did die unexpectedly,” Maya said. She looked down into her lap, clutching a tissue.

Liz, I miss my family very much. I want to talk to Maya. It’s like I can’t quite connect to her.

“I feel your loss, Maya,” Liz said. “He feels it too. He’s worried about you. He feels you have no sense of direction. You are holding him through fear. What you need to do is hold him through reverence, through marriage, not through fear, not through pain.”

Wow. Did I somehow convey all that to her? She’s not that lost!
“OK.” Maya sniffed. She was crying openly now. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“I didn’t mean to upset her,” I said to Alice.

“You’re going to have to concentrate very hard, Jay. Think deeply about your message, and think only of it. The clarity of your communication stems from the clarity of your thought and of your love. Psychics are good at picking up the images of what is in your mind, but not the subtle ideas behind them. What might seem very obvious to you will be easily misinterpreted.”

“You need to try and let him go, Maya,” Liz said.

“I don’t think I’m ready to.”

I wished I could hug her in that moment. To realize how much I was loved.

Time to change the subject there, Liz. You’re upsetting her. She might not be ready to hear this yet.

“Good, Jay. Think of Calder now,” Alice suggested. I thought of Calder sitting on this very couch.

“A boy. You have a little boy,” Liz said. Maya nodded.

“He’s been to see him. The boy has seen his dad.” I thought of my conversation with Calder just as he fell asleep.

I entered another memory. I don’t remember how our game started, but Calder and I began punching each other in the arm, ending in an all-out wrestle, with me pinning both of Calder's skinny wrists in one hand while I clutched his squirming body between my knees. “Now watchya gonna do?” I taunted. I tickled him in the armpits until he choked with laughter. Then I picked him up by both feet and threw him onto the couch, giggling. It became our game.

“He’s showing me your son. I don’t know if there’s a chair that those two used to sit on, but he sits in this chair where he used to hold this baby. Oh my God! He’s absolutely gorgeous! Those eyes! My God, that smile and the nose. What’s with the nose?”

Maya smiled. “Yes, Calder is cute.”
But the knife thing, Jay. What do I do about that?

I thought of the meds that Maya wanted to put our son on and tried to convey my dislike for the plan.

“He’s really concerned about Calder. Worried about his emotional state, but he feels he can’t help Calder because it’s you who needs to help him, Maya. Jay wants to help, but he can’t put his arms around you. He can’t communicate, and he’s trying very hard to be with you, but can’t get past your anger or your fear. He’s worried because Calder needs you now.”