Date: Fri, 24 Oct 1997 16:30:06 -0600 From: Robyn Herrington Subject: Sub: Contest:Visit from beyond This isn't offically *late*. The author forgot a title, and has only just emailed it to me. Robyn ================================================================================ ======= A Visit From Beyond Sometimes we plot, sometimes we scheme, and sometimes we bat our heads to make up Halloween stories, but I didn't have to do any of these things. Mine just came to me. Net was my mother's sister, my aunt. As (was it Emerson who said, "My aunt, my dear unmarried aunt," or something like that? She never married, though she was wonderful to all her nieces and nephews. For many years, I was the only girl in the family. Of course, I wasn't too spoiled. This slight lady who stood only about five feet tall and had a heart three times as big was there to take me shopping for my first pair of high-heeled shoes (red sling backs), make my first sheath dress when she deemed I was old enough, and present me with an antique cut glass sugar and creamer for my college graduation when there was no Mr. Right in the picture. We always had a special bond. When she went into town shopping, there was always room in her shopping bag for something for me. The day she died was one of the saddest of my life. My friend and supporter was gone. She was buried on Halloween, and her funeral mass was held in the same church her parents had belonged to since they came over from Italy many years before. As we mourners followed the casket into the old brick church, a group of children from the parish school frolicked through the parking lot on their way to class. Their laughter caused us to turn our heads and my sadness was suddenly lightened. "Net would have loved seeing them," I chucked. That was the first sign. I should have recognized it then. The rest of the day was a blur. That evening, I literally dropped into bed from exhaustion both mental and physical. As I placed my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, I saw a sea of grey in front of me, the color and texture of a grey flannel suit. This grey space started to open up, as if someone were twisting the lens on a telescope, and a bright white light appeared and flooded over me. I opened my eyes and stared into it. It didn't hurt my eyes. I did not squint--me, who keeps prescription sunglasses in the ash tray of my car all year. This pure white light bathed me me. Then the space closed up gradually, and the bright beam went away. "What was that?" I asked out loud. My husband was sleeping next to me and never saw anything. I rubbed my eyes, and the grey flannel sky opened again in telescope fashion and the purest white light I've ever seen flooded my side of the bed. Net spoke to me. "It's all right, Paula. It's all right," she soothed me. Then the light vanished and the sky closed up. I never saw the light again or heard her voice, but I know she came to me that night. Halloween stories don't have to be make up or scary or spooky. Sometimes the true ones are the best.