Cellar Door

I've had to let a few things die last night. My apathy. It's always been a safety net. But it has been keeping me from being who I'd like to be.

I had to exorcise demons. I had to let relationships in my life change and grow. To not, was death. I spent many a night worrying myself sick on how I should act, instead of naturally experiencing my relationships. Last night I accepted that some relationships grow, some change, and some die. I can't control that. People grow and change themselves and in doing so, so do their relationships. I cried a lot last night.

Yesterday was a true Halloween experience. Every year I try to go to the Cemetery. This holiday I visited my Uncle Frank, died in '92. The last time I was there his tombstone was decorated for the season. This year it was covered with lawn trimmings and crumpled fake flowers. I dusted it off to reveal the photo on it. I clearly recalled his burial. My grandfather wailing while covering his box with earth. The pine trees blowing in the brisk summer morning air.

I visited Lori Anderson. My mother's best friend who dropped dead at 22 from a brain aneurysm, I was 8. Her grave was just like uncle Frank's, seemingly forgotten. The picture on the tombstone was loose and falling off. I remember when I first visited that place I was with my mother and we were listening to Stevie Nicks. I remember when we parked the car the song playing was Leather and Lace and to this day I equate the song with visiting Lori's grave. I remember my mom saying, "I don't like coming to cemeteries. The people you are suppose to be visiting don't live there anymore."

I don't know why I do this ritual every Halloween. I know, I know, looking back is trap sometimes. I walked across the cemetery to my dad's parents grave. It was a surreal experience. I found this grave on my own when I was about 21. I was working through some abuse issues and I decide to find the resting place of my grandparents. I hit the ground, cried and pulled the lawn out by its roots. It was the first and last time I was there. It felt great to unload. This time was different. I looked down at the stone that bears my last name and imagined looking down at my own tombstone, with my name carved in to the rock. LUCE.

My name. My name means light. It was my father's name, I needed to remember that it still burns inside me.

All I wished for last night was to be delivered from all this death. And, in my dream that night I was visited by zombie after zombie. We shot them in the head of course. More just kept coming. There was a vengeful woman who said we should kill the cabaret diva because she was bleeding and she would soon become a zombie. Though she was never bitten, we loaded her in to a wood shredder. She sang a song of hope as she was ground up and it rang in all of our ears.

As I woke up I could faintly hear a tune fading from my head. I could sing it to now if you asked. Today I look forward to life and returning to my journey. To lead a life of authenticity, a life of freedom, a life of love and accomplishment, creativity, wind, air, fire, earth, water.