In the Company of Ghosts
it's not all that different than being with the living
People often ask, “What’s it like being constantly surrounded by ghosts?” once they discover that I not only speak with the dead but also see them. It’s often accompanied by a daunted look conveying the general sentiment, “I can’t even imagine what that would be like!!” as they ponder how I manage such a high volume of ghost visitors.
Having spent the weekend assembling a puzzle with my grandpa, the dynamics of these interactions have been top of mind. If you guessed that my grandpa is no longer living, you are correct. Go buy yourself a lottery ticket if you’re the betting kind.
Being dead did not detract from his insistence on my upholding our familial puzzle rules as we approached this recent puzzle. Dump the entire contents of the box on the table. Flip all pieces to face up. Sort flat pieces into their own corner of the table while doing so. Assemble the border. Do not even think about tackling any other groupings until the border is complete. Only once enough pieces have been joined together to be palm sized or larger are they allowed to be placed inside the border.
These were instilled in me at an early age each time the designated card table was set up in the living room of the cottage on a rainy day. The same assortment of Springbok puzzles made an appearance every summer — the seven deadly sins (with two pieces missing), butterflies, wildflowers, song birds, and fungi (only if we had already completed the others too frequently).
My grandparents and I would sit hunched over the neatly arranged pieces looking up only to identify a jogger or other passerby. Eventually we would break for lunch or dinner then immediately return to continue our quest. Conversation ebbed and flowed based on the various intervals of concentration.
As my grandpa sat across from me at our current dining table suggesting which pieces went where and chastising me for organizing my individual pieces inside the border (necessitated by the complexity of the puzzle), it felt just like those summers from long ago. The main difference is that our concentration was broken to look at the hummingbirds in the woods instead of rollerbladers along the lake. His company is just as enjoyable now as it was when I was a kid.
By and large, that’s what it’s like to have ghosts around.
I’m also not constantly aware of them. At one point it dawned on me that it’s a bit like having the dogs around or living with roommates. There are times when they make themselves known and times when you forget that they’re even there. Sometimes you’re very aware of them — like when they bark at coyotes (the dogs not the roommates) — while other times you coexist without any knowledge that the other is present in the house.
If I’m doing something fun and interesting, it draws more attention than my mundane tasks. My friend Gretchen (ghost) often keeps me company while I’m baking as does Doozer (living dog). It’s fitting for both. Many batches of chocolate chip cookies came together in Gretchen’s kitchen. Doozer, on the other hand, remains constantly hopeful that I’ll drop a scrap that he can have.
Ghost friends will sit across from me as I slice vegetables at the kitchen island or roll out a pie crust. They know that it’s an opportune time to chat. My living friends find it an equally enjoyable window to catch up on the happenings of our lives. I’ve even known it to be a mixed crowd where friends dead and living all pack themselves into the kitchen. There are other nights when I find myself completely alone.
I’ve grown to love the ghost company, but it hasn’t always been this way.
There was a time when having ghosts around was downright overwhelming. I used to fall asleep with a gaggle of ghosts gathered around my bed clamoring for my attention. Convinced that they would go away if I simply pretended that they weren’t there, I would close my eyes and will myself to sleep.
This is a terrible approach for anyone wondering. They do not in fact disappear. Most of my twenties were spent pursuing these fruitless attempts to make myself invisible to ghosts only to attract more of them and ultimately dull the constant hum with alcohol so that I could get a moment of peace.
So I understand when people have concerns over the regular comings and goings of ghosts in my life and having them around all the time.
The big game changer was realizing that I could set ground rules. No ghosts in the bedroom. It’s creepy to have anyone standing at the foot of your bed, dead or alive. Yes, this includes the doorway. You can’t just stand there waiting for me to be awake.
Being bed bound these past few years has made for some flexibility in this stance, which is an excellent reminder that these guidelines can always change. You can also make exceptions to the rules. Having my grandma sit on my bed to comfort me is quite different than a stranger wanting my attention.
I figured out what felt comfortable for me. Ghosts gathering in my living room to watch a movie is always welcome. Ghost parties after I went to bed were less welcome. Eventually I insisted that everyone had to be out by midnight. My house. My rules.
The irony is that things are rather quiet on the ghost front these days. After years of not wanting ghosts around, I now miss them. They’re giving me a wide berth as I heal knowing that I don’t yet have the energetic capacity to interact with them the way I once did. Time moves differently in their plane. For them it feels like only a blip until they’ll be back. I’m appreciative of how courteous they are to give me the space even though I miss the festivities.
The way that I interact with the dead certainly isn’t right for everybody. Heck, the number of celebrity mediums who recoil at the mere thought of seeing a ghost is staggering. Here I am hosting ghosts in my home and offering them hors d'oeuvres. Find what works for you. Even that might change with life’s seasons.
Wondering about other aspects of life with ghosts? Drop me a line to ask!
