For most of my life I did not directly experience death. All the major players in my story lived on. My Grandmother died when I was in my thirties. A few years later my Uncle died, then my Aunt and about four years ago my Godmother. Last year my Father died and memories of him keep surfacing like depth charges. I do not necessarily feel my Father’s presence around me but scenes and moments from our life together replay in my mind. Unexpectedly I will remember an expression, a tone of voice, like a scrapbook with random out-of-sequence photographs, I inexplicably envision fragments of the past.
I wonder if this is how one is haunted? Not by the nocturnal rattling of chains but the popping up of clips of the past while driving the car, eating a meal or reading email. What if the crucial relationships of our lives become like scenes from a film to be replayed over and over until our words, gestures and behavior become a part of someone else’s haunting?
For thirty years I have been analyzing life, death and resurrection but there is a great divide between the academic consideration and the lived experience. How does this all work I wonder? And perhaps more profoundly ~ what will happen next?There’s always someone haunting someone – haunting someone. And you know who I am though I never leave my name or number. I’m locked inside of you so it doesn’t matter. There’s always someone haunting someone – haunting someone. And I can’t sleep easy ‘cause I’m afraid of dreaming and then there’s the memory of the dream. There’s always someone haunting someone . . . Haunting someone . . . . Haunting someone . . . . Carly Simon