From the Twilight Zone: A Virginia Story

[Loup Solitaire]

When I was young, I'm talking about when I was as young as I can remember until I was old enough to defend myself in most situations, I seldom had physical confrontation problems with others. I never thought much about that. It wasn't until I was in my twenties, I realized it was probably because I was above average in size. Oh there was the time two guys ganged up on me, and the time some oaf who was a good six inches taller than me and two years older. But for the most part, people avoided physical confrontations with me. This was a good thing, because I was a very mild mannered kid. I actually feared the potential of hurting others. I was considerate of animals, birds and even insects.

But there was one person I feared and had good reason. That was my father. He was foremost abusive emotionally. And at his worst he could be physically abusive. But fortunately, in my house there was a moderating force, my mother. My mother's name was Virginia. She was strong physically and emotionally. Otherwise, how could she have survived my father.

When I say she was strong physically, I don't mean she would fight physically. I mean that she could take a lot of abuse. She would deflect my father's abusiveness away from me. She taught me how to avoid his wrath. If his wrath was directed towards me, she would distract him.

I had two older brothers. They got more abuse from him than I did. I remember how much negative attention my oldest brother got. To this day, he is the strongest, most determined person I know. There were times when he was in his adolescence, he would take on, in a fight, people much bigger than himself and knock the daylights out of them. At his peak height, he was four inches shorter than I when I got to the same age. But he was incredibly strong, extremely determined, and he would not give up until the job was done, regardless.

My next oldest brother was dogged and determined, but he was far more intelligent. He was persuasive and insightful. He had the mind of a lawyer, a detective, a scientist, and a craftsman. But both of these guys had a lot of trouble with my father.

I was spared a lot of grief because my mother was caring and instructive. She did not smother me or overly protect me. She allowed me freedom to be myself. She allowed me to go wherever I wanted. The only time I ever thought she tried to prevent me from doing what I wanted, was when I decided to leave home. I now think this was because she appreciated my company. There was a void in her life, created and maintained by my father. But once I was out on my own, which I did at around twenty years of age, she allowed me to have my own life. She did let me know that any visit or return was welcome.

Something phenomenal happened shortly before she died. When I say shortly before she died, I'm not talking days, but twenty months before. It was early one morning, while I lingered in bed resting peacefully. I was not asleep. I had my eyes closed. I had, earlier, gotten out of bed and noticed the sun was shining, although the weather outside was cold for December. As I was laying there, I heard a voice, that was as clear as a bell. The voice seemed feminine, but I really couldn't swear it was. In clear distinct English I heard, "your mother will not be with you much longer and your father will be gone shortly thereafter". Although I wasn't moving at that moment, I couldn't move for at least a minute after that, such was my shock. Then I opened my eyes, and looked around frantically. I tried talking to my wife, but she was sleeping soundly next to me. I got out of bed and walked through the entire house to see if someone else was there. I found no one.

Later when my wife woke, I told her about what had happened. She did not express an opinion. I thought much about what happened. I made a point to see my mother that day to make certain she was OK. I didn't realize at the time, but she was in the beginning stages of liver cancer and circulatory problems. It was nine months later that things became apparent. The liver cancer was not apparent, but the circulatory problem was. In fact the circulatory problem, probably perpetuated the liver cancer. She underwent several surgeries for circulatory problems in the legs, she had a toe amputated due to poor blood flow, and she became more sedentary.

Because of my experience with "the voice", I made certain to tell her how much she had meant to me. Although I hadn't written any poems since I was a child, I wrote poetry for her to reveal how I felt. It occurred to me, how meaningful my childhood writing had been to her. Although, the years and my father had made her stoic, I felt her appreciation.

After her death, my father became an immense burden, psychologically. He stole so much of the energy from my brothers and I. I realized that my brothers, like myself, only tolerated this because of our affection for our mother. We felt that despite his flaws, she loved him. We felt we needed to care for him because we cared for her.

In a few years he died also. It was only after he died, my brothers and I could actually grieve my mother's death. He was so manipulative and demanding. When he died, we did not spend five minutes mourning his passing. My memory of my mother is still vivid and loving.

It was less than a year ago, that out of the blue, my son called me and expressed interest in attending the "Apple Butter Festival" in a small West Virginia town known as Berkley Springs. He knew of this event because my wife, he, my sister-in-law, my niece, and I had attended this event fourteen years before my mother died. Then I was aware of this town, because as a child, my family had passed through this town on our way to an autumn retreat, in the month of October, in Cacapon State Park located several miles to the south. The park had always been a favorite of my mother. In the park are log cabins built during the depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). They are rustic, equipped with a minimal kitchen and bath, one large room for dinning, gathering, etc. The cabin we stayed in had two small bedrooms with bunk beds. In the main room was a large stone fireplace. The cabin was located high on a mountain. My son had actually been to the park twice. But we had never had time to explore the park. Now, the park only has twelve of the rustic cabins, so what followed could have been simply, coincidence.

I was a bit shocked that my son would have thought he wanted to do this, as group event, including him, his fiancé, my wife and I. So we made plans to attend the Apple Butter Festival and I would see if a rustic cabin was available for the weekend we wanted to go. Now, I should point out, that usually the rustic cabins are booked quickly for the year shortly after January first. The date we wanted was considered high season because the autumn foliage would be at its' peak. In May, I called and requested a rustic cabin large enough to sleep four adults. The reservation desk makes it a practice to only confirm that your request can be accommodated but they will not commit on a specific cabin. They have modern cabins and a lodge. The total possible accommodations are 62+ cabins and rooms. When the date arrives, you get whatever is available. I could not be certain what we would get when the date arrived.

I thought it was unusual and was puzzled that my son wanted to do this, but I was glad to make the arrangements. It isn't often that my wife and I have the opportunity to vacation with my son.

October arrived, then the weekend of the Festival, we packed our belongings, food, and hiking boots and took off for wild, wonderful, West Virginia. I think it is only coincidence that my mother's name is Virginia.

No one can imagine my shock when we arrived and we were directed to the very same cabin that my family stayed in when my brothers and I were children. It looked to me as if it had stood still in time. Little had changed. Needless to say, I thought of my mother and how she had enjoyed staying there. She had enjoyed being in a wilderness setting, with only basic accommodations. She had enjoyed hiking the mountain trails and the company of friends that accompanied us.

The time I spent with my son and his fiancé was pleasant. The weather was wonderful. The scenery was outstanding. and the recollections of my mother enjoyable. I even had some good thoughts about my father. Because there, he had always seemed his best.

It was about four weeks later that I learned my son's fiancé was pregnant. They are not children, so I was not upset. I gave little thought about consequences, the future, the obstacles, and all those things that would need to be managed. I would like to note here that the fiancé was taking birth control pills which are supposed to be 99.9% effective. She wasn't supposed to get pregnant. I experienced little anxiety as the weeks passed. I simply accepted that it was their lives, not mine.

And when the day arrived that the pregnancy had progressed to the point where the sex of the baby could be detected, I was unaffected that the sex of the baby was female. I only hoped that the child would be born healthy.
Now I'd like to note that my son did not spend a great deal of time with my parents. It was more an issue of geography. My father had mellowed and really didn't behave too badly with his grandchildren. In fact, he usually behaved well and had a positive influence on his grandchildren. This actually made me a little envious of them. If he had behaved as well with my brothers and I, I wouldn't have so many harsh feelings toward him. And the time my son did spend with my parents made a strong impression on him.
But I don't think I fully realized how strong that impression was.

And then came yesterday. I need to state one thing. I do not, hardly ever had, dreamt about babies. The only time I ever remember having such dreams was when I was about four. The last dream, of a series of dreams, I had early yesterday morning was me viewing two, beautiful, healthy babies. I should state that the sonogram to determine the sex, definitely indicated one baby girl. Then late in the day, I learned that the baby is to be named Virginia. This was a real surprise. The possibility was distant from my mind. Then my wife showed me a set of crib blankets, crib paraphernalia, crib mattress skirt, curtains, appliqués etc. purchased yesterday, that were all in what were my mother's favorite colors. I nearly passed out when considering the possibilities, the coincidences.

I can't speak authoritatively about visions, revealing dreams, or reincarnation. But on an intuitive level, I believe. Could it be that one so dear to me is returning? I do not know. But as long as I live, I will be thinking about this new person, soon to arrive, and the possibilities of what has happened. And I also wonder how my brothers will feel when they find out that the baby is to be a girl and named Virginia.

[Mario]

I can't speak authoritatively about visions, revealing dreams, or reincarnation. But on an intuitive level, I believe. Could it be that one so dear to me is returning?

Yes, it most certainly could be, just as it most probably is.
The definite answer lies far beyond our material realm and is only accessible to the beings existing in the higher frequencies of the Universe. Oddly enough though, certain animals have access to information regarding past reincarnations and their relationships to (for example) their human masters (or, "staff," as is generally the case with felines). Proof again, perhaps, that GOD has a sense of humor!

Anyway, believing that this might be the case is certainly within the Daheshist way of viewing things.

Enjoy and congratulations!

[Loup Solitaire]

I never said thanks for your comment

Bronwyn Virginia is a few days shy of five months. This little lady is in my eyes and in the eyes of a few others, perfect. She has a great disposition, much like my son when he was a baby. I can't believe the sense of affection I feel.

Her first name is Welsh. It means "bron" (breast) , "gwen" (white). But the better translation is fair, blessed. I find the translation fair, blessed a little easier to identify with. The child's mother has Welsh ancestry and this influenced her to select this name. Virginia means "maid, virgin". The first name already appear appropriate. She is quite fair and blessed.

I am doing everything in my power to make certain she is spoiled. I had forgotten the joy a baby brings into the family.

Approximately four years ago, I think, maybe three, I had requested assistance from Mario in the form of saying a Ramz on behalf of my son because he was having some problems. Since then, not all things have gone smoothly. But I believe strongley that Mario's intercession made a huge difference. Bronwyn I believe, is the product.

Thanks for your help.