Ghosts of the Dead

Buffy believed in ghosts. Our children do as well, and I think I might. She told some of her friends, in her final weeks before she passed on, that she “didn’t want to become a ghost mommy.” And I don’t think she did, at least in the way she meant. I think she found peace, and I think she’s in a better place, be that place heaven, or the light at the end of the tunnel, or her soul rejoined with the fabric of the universe. But in some ways I don’t think she, or any of us, have a choice anymore about becoming a ghost. Technology demands it. And as technology progresses, these demands will become all pervasive.

When you sign up for in-home hospice, they give you literature. They say that people close to dying often see loved ones visit them, who have died. They have conversations with them, which can be scary for unprepared caregivers. They’ll sometimes talk to these loved ones, in their final moments. This is a common thing.

Buffy didn’t see that. But she did see a cat.

We’ve had cats much of our marriage. Our first cat was named Yoshi, because we are a Nintendo family, and he used to go sailing with us. Buffy loved our cats.

About a week before she passed on, she saw a ghost cat. She said a cat came to her, and laid with her, and she petted him for a while, and then it went off a direction she couldn’t see. Only after, did she realize he wasn’t real. When I told this story to a friend of mine after she passed, he told me that in Egyptian mythology, the cats lead your spirit to the land of the dead. He might have been pulling my leg. Even if so, I like that story. It comforts me.

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