More Weird Stuff

Yesterday, I made mention of the weird stuff my mom has claimed and how I used to make fun of her behind her back.  Here are two particular episodes spread quite far apart that made me stop laughing at her.

May 1, 1992:

I was newly married and living a few blocks from my parents and younger siblings, and down the street from my old high school, where one of my sisters, Audra, was a freshman.  My other sister, Angel, (technically, my stepsister but we don’t use that kind of language in my family) was attending the middle school.

The night before, my mom had called me to tell me that she felt like she just needed to get out of town.   She was having one of her feelings, and those always gave me anxiety.  She told me she was going to pick up the girls after school on Friday and head to the coast for the weekend.

Going to the coast was not unusual.  We had a favorite campground that we’d go to at least every summer.  We still do, in fact.  But going before school was out was unusual, because it was a long drive and my mom never arbitrarily took us out of school.

The next day, around 2:00 PM, I was standing in my shower and I heard police radios.  I thought the elderly couple next door might be in trouble, so threw on some clothes and ran out the front door.  We lived across from a Tower Market, and I saw several police cars heading toward the high school.  The Rodney King verdict had just come down and there were riots in Southern California.  Tensions were high, so that’s where my head went.

Then I saw kids running down the street toward me.  My neighbor asked what was happening, and one of them said, “There’s a shootout at the high school.  Mr. Brens is dead.”

I didn’t believe it.  But I could see kids running all up and down the street and hear the sirens.

Then I remembered my sister was at that school!  I went inside to call my mom, but there was no answer.  I stayed by the telephone and the television all that afternoon.

Around 3:00 PM one of my sister’s best friends called me, hysterical.  I begged her not to tell me anything bad.  She told me she was trying to reach Audra, but couldn’t get an answer at home.  I couldn’t either.

Finally, around 4:00, my mom called me.  She told me that she’d taken the girls out of school early so they could get on the road.  They had just heard the news on the radio.  We all sobbed and exchanged I love yous.

The shooter had taken about 60 students hostage for several hours.  By morning, it was all over.  Three students, Jason White, Beamon Hill, and Judy Davis, and a teacher, Robert Brens, who was only 28 years old had been murdered in their classrooms.  You can Google this if you want to know the who and why.  I won’t repeat his name or his bullshit motive.

When my family came home, I went straight over to hug everyone.  Angel told us that when Mom had picked her up and they were on their way to get Audra from the high school, Mom had just started sobbing as they turned on to Olive Avenue.  When Angel asked her what was wrong, my mom just told her she didn’t know, she just felt like death was coming.

Our community still grieves.

My Brother’s Father:

Like mine, my brother, Ed’s, father wasn’t around for him much.  Ed had sought him out at one point in his teens and lived with him briefly, but it didn’t work out.

I can’t remember dates and specifics, but I remember that my mother had a dream that Ed’s dad was holding out his hand to her.  In his hand, he was holding 40 cents in loose change.  My mom told my brother that she thought his dad was trying to reach him, so Ed started looking for him.  He finally reached him on a Thursday and they had a really great talk.  Ed was really happy to have connected with him, again.  His father had invited him to come out for a visit, and Ed had planned to go.

By Saturday, Ed’s father had passed away suddenly.

My mom said she thought the dream meant that change would come at 40.  Ed was turning 40 that year.  Not only did he lose his biological father, but he and his wife split up for good (something that had been a long time coming).

 

That was the one that really made me believe that my mom was sensitive to things.  Now that I’m older, I’m starting to notice things, too.  I am definitely an empath.  I have a friend who pops into my head now and then.  When he does, I write to him and find out that he is in the midst of some emotional calamity.

I can feel when someone is struggling with faith questions, something with which I have had long and exhausting battles.  I don’t even have to know them well.

I knew that a colleague was suicidal after having drinks with him and my friend with whom I suspected he was having a thing.  I got his phone number so that I could reach out to him and offer an ear, but before I got the chance, he had already followed through.  I was right about him and my friend having a thing, by the way.

To me this all goes along with my perception of God as that energy that connects us all.  My mom is far more sensitive to it than I am, but now that I’m aware and listening, I’m paying attention.

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