A Spirit and a Music Box

Posted: May 3, 2014 in music, spirits, spirituality
Tags: , , ,

The lovely DD who runs a wonderful blog (which you should definitely check out) recently wrote this post: http://fillingspaces.wordpress.com/2014/04/28/do-you-believe-in-ghosts/ which inspired me to write of an incident which occurred a few years after my nana’s mortal death.

Before I write of that incident, one should know the kind of woman my nana was.

In a word, she was a class-act.

One memory which sticks out very much happened during one of my visits home. Which incidently, was the last time I ever saw her.

During a family gathering, she was introduced to two female friends of my sister.

Driving home, the conversation proceeded as such:

“X and X are such lovely girls,” said nana.
me: “Yeah, they’re really nice.” (pause) “They’re a couple.”
Nana: “Yes, I know.”
me. “I mean, they’re not just friends.”
Nana (turning to glare): “Do you think your Nana is stupid? That she doesn’t know what goes on in this world?”

To say that shame instantly filled me is an understatement. Here was a woman who’d lived through the Depression, saw her husband go off to fight in World War II, raised a little boy alone until he thankfully came home, worked as a secretary in a school for the blind, saw presidents assassinated, men walking on the moon, the civil rights movement, womens sexual liberation, Vietnam, Korea, black and white t.v. with one or two channels expanding into cable. The Hays Code to All in the Family to HBO. Walls built, and Walls torn down. The fall of leaders, and the rise of the internet.

But she might not realize someone is gay??

Really!?

Yes, I’d insulted her.

But luckily, she wasn’t one to hold grudges.

Since she has passed, she’s come to me often in dreams. She rarely speaks, but just her presense is a comfort.

Your own thoughts many would say. But I don’t care what others think. I know.

And she’s come to me in other ways.

Some years ago, after coming home and having dinner with my husband, he broke out with “Uhm, uh….btw…uh, when you were out….uhm, that music box of your nana’s started to play on its own.”

me: “What? My nana was communicating from beyond the grave, and you’re just telling me now??”
hub: “Well, you said you were hungry.”

As one can imagine, I was quite disappointed not to have been here at the time. But a few days later, in the early hours of the night, her music box, with two white swans atop, began to turn on its own, and FΓΌr Elise began to play.

The windows were shut.
There was no breeze.
There was no banging anywhere in the apartment complex. No loud stomping.
No animals or children to have bumped into the commode.

“Nana?” I said.

There was no answer.

Only the beautiful tune we’d both loved so much.

It happened on one more occasion. Home alone, feeling a bit blue after receiving a rejection (the hazzards and realities of being a writer!) when the music began.

All I could do was say, “Thank you.”

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Comments
  1. D. D. Syrdal says:

    Aw, that’s sweet πŸ™‚ Do you still have the music box? And thanks for the shout-out!

  2. Heya DD!

    Yes, I still have it. It’s very special to me,as you can imagine.

    And you’re very welcome. You deserve tons of shout-outs! πŸ™‚

  3. Stephen Thom says:

    You do a good job with the life pieces. I like that they are short fragments in such a tone, like a conversation. Parts stick in my head here, that I will think about today πŸ™‚

  4. Oh thank you so very much, Stephen. Your comment means a lot to me. I’ll definitely be having more “life pieces” as the mood strikes.

  5. Ken says:

    Neat anecdote!
    On a sidenote, Fur Elise is an interesting tune. Beethoven was way ahead of his time.
    Truly a genius and something otherworldly about him. So a special tune in two ways πŸ™‚

  6. Hi Ken,

    Agreed! A very unique man and talent. πŸ™‚

  7. As you know I am a big fan of yours and Fillingspaces. I had to laugh at your husband part “you said you were hungry”, lol, Can’t get mad at that one, he wanted to make sure you ate. The part that you talk about you telling your grandmother encase if she did not know I think it is quite normal. We see our elder as innocent baby and not really their age that they have seen and live through more than we can imagine or go through. What I do think is so sweet that I had to smile was the musical box playing after a tough day and you saying “thank you”. Knowing that she was there to give you a hug or a shoulder to lean on but since she could not a sweet sound from her to you.

  8. Yeah, that moment with my nana was definitely a learning experience for me. Not just how I viewed her, but all elderly persons.

    Thanks Lora for your, as always, sweet and loving comment. You always make me smile.

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