Resurrection 10/29/2003

Resurrection
In the very center of The Burning, when the fog rolls down upon our town, there is a day we mark as The Resurrection. It is a day when the days are cooler and there is a fine mist in the air.
Everyone in the village begins the Turn.
The Turn is when the minds of the people begin to grow dark, as dark as the days and long as the night. They dwell on the things that they cannot have and the people that have died. It’s a very strange time in the valley.
On Resurrection the people of the valley take out a suit of clothes of the ones they have lost and hang them from trees in their yards. They then place a meal on a plate of fine china on the front step of their home. It’s said that on the Resurrection, the loved ones would rise from the grave and come to visit for a change of clothes and a fine meal.
One time I sat up in the darkness and waited to see the ghost of my grandmother. I missed her since her passing and hoped that if I caught her eating she would talk to me. So I sat in my room and waited for the growing darkness to come and show me the supernatural.
I sat all night and waited for my grandmother to appear. My mind thrilled as the wind whispered through the dry leaves. I remember thinking how it sounded like it was raining.
My grandmother’s dress danced in the wind and I thought for a moment I saw something of her standing in the yard. Then there was a figure standing by her dress! Dark and black it stood looking the thing over as if trying to decide to put it on.
Filled with joy, I sprang from my window and made my way through the house to the front door. Slowly I opened the door and saw the figure was standing by the tree still and silent. I made my way slowly out the door, because if you scared a ghost or moved too quickly, it would run and never come back.
As I moved closer to the figure I began to make out features, strange and different than my grandmothers. It looked rather like a man
“Excuse me sir. I said rather politely. Who are you?”
“Your father.” He said turning his pipe glowing ominously on his face.
“What are you doing up?” He asked me sternly.
“I was hoping to see grandma. I miss her and wanted to talk to her.”
He took me to the front step and sat me down to hold the plate on my lap. We sat for a few moments in silence. I think he was trying to build up to something.
“For about eight years now I’ve been practicing this stupid ritual, all because your mother thinks it’s what we must do. For eight years now, I stand in this yard waiting for my mother to show up so I can talk to her and nothing happens.
“But now, I know that she is here. She is with you and I right now and I think she wants you to say what’s on your mind and maybe split her meal between us.” He sighed.
And so I did, and we did and when it was all said and done we went back in the house and fell asleep. I dreamed of my grandmother coming into my room and tucking me in.
Years later, when I was old enough to understand, I came to think on that night and realized the truth of the Resurrection.
You see the dead can rise from the grave. They come to us when we don’t expect it, in stories and memories; they walk through life with us in our heads and hearts, never really leaving.
I have a photo of my grandmother, to remind me of her face, and the saddest tugging on my soul is that I have forgotten her voice. I set on nights like the Resurrection and think until my head feels likes it’s gonna explode, trying to remember her voice, but it has faded in time, through the fog of frail humanity and into the depths of time.
I don’t practice the Resurrection anymore; it’s an out of place holiday in this part of the world. And the Halloween festivities take up so much time
As I pass out candy to the children in the gathering gloom of late October, my mind wanders back to the simpler time, in the gathering fog, setting on the steps of my home with my father remembering the loss of that fine lady, when her voice still rung in my head and I could feel her beside me.
If I was saying anything to you, I guess it might be this treasure every moment. Love every day as though you were a small child and keep them close to your heart. The greatest loss of life is to forget, to let life slip into the fog that cheats us somehow.