Dig Me Up

I was thinking about my kids this morning. I’m so proud of them. Garrett called me this morning to tell me he’d been night surfing. I know it sounds dangerous, but we’re Vampires so day surfing can be uncomfortable, especially for Garrett who is super sensitive to the sun. He is living in a beach town on the Central California Coast working his own business and living his best life. 

He said something about recently meeting a woman he is nuts about. She is also a Vampire. Thank goodness for that. It usually doesn’t work out too well if they’re well, not Vampires.

Clara is in Graduate School at USC and her boyfriend is working in Hollywood (yes, in TV), and they went to the Grand Prix Race yesterday. Living the life. I’m so proud of them.

Yes, I earned the right to brag. I write a parenting blog, so of course I get to brag. Read my blog and you two will have amazing kids – OK I know your kids are amazing too. Please brag. You earned it.

Anyway, I was patting myself on the back when a ghostly figure materialized at my kitchen table and sat in the seat in front of my coffee cup.

“Nigel,” I said. Yes indeed, it was Nigel, The Ghost. I haven’t seen him much lately.

“You were thinking about your kids. Good for you. My parents never think about me, even though I’m dead. They never thought about me when I was alive. I think they might even be dead but I’m not sure. I don’t care.”

For those of you who are new here Nigel was an up and coming artist when he was murdered. More than up and coming. He was just about to become insanely famous. Then one morning someone came into his house while he was in the shower and beat him to death with a large cast iron frying pan. He was only 26 years old. His murder was never solved. Nigel is now a ghost. My ghost. To this day I have no idea why he has landed with me, but who knows how these things work. I don’t know. Neither does Nigel.

“What’s up,” I asked. I was feeling a bit cautious since he usually flips me off or comes in with an insult.

“I want you to dig up my body and cremate me and scatter my ashes.” Nigel said with a bright smile.

“I can’t do that,” I said

“Of course you can. Just send some of your ghouls out in the middle of the night, say 2:00 am and dig me up. Give me a flaming bonfire, then scatter my ashes. You can keep some in a vile next to your heart if you want, or mix them with tattoo ink.” 

Then he winked. That was so unlike Nigel. He is usually surly and and sort of a jerk. 

“I’m serious. I didn’t want to be pumped full of chemicals then buried in a box. Sure, I’m next to my best friend but he isn’t there. His remains are there but he is long gone. But you know, all things considered, I was a damned good looking corpse. I was hit in the back of the head and on the side, not directly in my face so they could patch me up before the viewing. It’s weird watching your own funeral. Then phew, I was whisked away to some dark purgatory on a fog covered cold as Antarctica island. Damn. Then back here about 12 years ago. But I digress, back to my body. I want, I NEED you to dig me up, burn me to ashes in a bonfire and scatter my ashes on the beach of my choice.” 

“Nigel, you’re nuts.”

“No kidding, I’m an artist, just like you, but that has nothing to do with this. Maybe if my body was where I wanted it to be I could move on, you know, towards the light.”

“What about Mary?” 

Mary was Nigel’s sweet ethereal ghostly girlfriend. They’d met while they were ghosts, not when they were living. She was murdered about 500 years ago. Nigel was murdered a mere 36 years ago.

“She could come with me,” said Nigel.

“You don’t know that,” I said.

He sat for a while, his face close to the steaming coffee, his eyes closed. “I wouldn’t go without her,” he said.

“I know Nigel.”

“There were a lot of girls, I mean women, in my life. So many. But I never found anyone who I loved like I love Mary. She loves me the same way I love her. We’re so different, yet we work. She is the color in my gray ghostly world. She was the light in the fog. She is everything, almost. We connected.” Then he looked at me. I mean really looked at me. “I’d miss you too Juliette. I ever knew there were Vampires before I became a Ghost. I thought you were fucking pretend.”

“I’m real as real can be.”

“You’re a real friend too. I hate to admit it but you are, even though I loathe the fact that Vampires are… well, it doesn’t matter right now. My issue, not yours.”

For the next twentyfive minutes I let him go on about Mary, and being a Ghost, and his funeral, and other things I tried to block out. 

Then he stopped, brushed his hands through his dark hair and said, “I have to go. Think about digging me up. Think about it.” Then in a whisp of multicolored mist he vanished.

That is the way it is with Ghosts. They appear, then they vanish. 

So, your assignment for this weekend is to give your kids a call. If they live with you then do something fun with them. If you don’t have kids call a friend, a sibling, or someone else you like and chat a while. Let them know you care.

Stay safe everyone,

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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