So, today was a long day.  Some repeated awkwardness keeps reappearing with a person from my past and a teenage boy, who possibly could be my son… although, I was told by her that it wasn’t.  It’s a long story that I will get into at some point and go into great depth.  Perhaps, I will be able to talk about it after I speak to her at some great length, now that she appears at my place of work relatively often.  If that conversation ever does come along, I will absolutely share my thoughts, because… well, it’s a life changing conversation.

What made me come back to it tonight, this late at night was an old post on an old blog of mine.  Yes.  I was a blogger in a previous life.  For the most part I chronicled EVERYTHING during my formative film making years.  I did blog for a very long time, pretty much from the inception of the internet.  As I started to get back to this one, I revisited the old one.  (wow.  It does still exist.)  And here is a post from January 13th, 2001.

“The Guardian Angel

So I spoke of Kelly. She watches out for me, over me. She was a mother of one. She was murdered or died in 1868. I’m not exactly sure how, but she was. She died young. twenty-nine.

I’m not sure what she did in those years between 1868 and 1973. Perhaps she was working her way up to guardian angel status. Maybe there’s a hierarchy of the way things work for those extra sets of eyes. That seems like an awful long time between
“positions”.. but who am I to judge. When you reach that status does time stand still or does it fly by much more rapidly? Maybe there is no more concept of time.

My first memory of Kelly was when The Bad News Bears was released. Sure, there was a smart assed little motherfucker in that movie that shared the same name, but I think that was simply what triggered the memory.

From there, I remember seeing her in my back yard. She was my invisible friend. I always knew that Kelly wasn’t a boy, like in the Bears. She stood outside a chicken coop one day and watched with me as the chickens marveled at a rubber snake… or maybe it was real. I’m not sure.

She sort of vanished for a while while I was in high school. It took some time for her to reappear. She came back when I needed her. I think it was around the time I discovered girls. I think she knew I was in trouble then.

For quite some time, at night, she would linger over my bed like a succubus, as I came of age, she became more and more fascinated with me and my everyday life.

When college started, she rode with me on the cold night rides back and forth from college to home. There was a time when I was staying at a friends house, and she warded off the ghost of a child that lingered there. There was a suicidal spirit that haunted the house, and would make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Kelly was there. She showed him the way.

In that same apartment, I think she left. I was with a girl, I really shouldn’t have been with. She was a little too young for me. Not much, but a little. She was a great friend and exactly what I needed.

Kelly ran away for a while. She came back when I had grown a little more, just to check in. I guess I was doing fine, so she didn’t stay long.

Then there was the waitress. A two week relationship that left me hanging like I was the Harvard boy chosen to sire a child for a poor white trash couple. (double crossing two timing bitch) Was it mine or not? she says no, but who can really tell. Kelly was around for that. I know she was there. She was severely disappointed in me. She stuck with me until the next woman came along…  It took me a long time to get past that.

She found my soul mate. It was right out of a movie. A damsel in distress with a flat tire. And me, there to help her out. The single most important woman in my life. Too bad I wasn’t the most important man. Kelly really got me through that one. An entire relationship based on angels and things golden… It took me a long time to get over that.

When I found myself again, Kelly disappeared. She stops and visits for a while every now and again, but she never stays long. She sees that I am doing well and goes about her business.

I know how much she loves me. I know how hard it was for her to let me go. At night I could feel her above me. I could feel her body resting next to mine. I would awake, and no one was there, but the bed was still warm.

I miss her. I miss having her next to me at night. I liked it when she was with me night after night… and now she’s gone… grown up.”

That was 2001.  That guardian angel hasn’t stopped by in many, many, many years.  I feel that is perhaps because the deaths of my grandparents has rolled them into her shoes.  On countless occasions I have had dreams of conversations with both of my grandfathers.  It’s a regular occurrence in my deep sleep.  I remember distinctly talking to my grandfather on my mother’s side around the time of my firstborn’s birth.  It was almost as if he was blessing the child and telling me everything will be all right.  I’ve also had similar experiences with my paternal grandfather.  Conversations, where I know he’s dead, yet, I know I am holding that conversation with him.

You can’t tell me dreams aren’t powerful.  I’ll never believe you.