H is for Hands

 I know this is going to sound haunted, but with my theme yesterday I thought I would add something that happened to me. My father had died; my boyfriend didn't feel comfortable in my home and took off. He said, he could feel my Dad's presence. My Dad didn't like him and not many teenage boys want to deal with death and grief. Thanks Dad,you were right, he was a twerp ! I'd say about a week, after Dad's death; I was driving home from the Colonial Theatre. I was in college and worked here part time. I was nearing Moose Point State Park, it is the darkest part of the commute home. When my headlights went off. They did come back on, but I was freaked. Then I felt the strangest presence, it was so intense. I turned my inside lights on. I could feel someone staring at me. My hands on the wheel were shaking;  I kept glancing over at the passenger seat. I started crying; I just felt overcome. It felt like my Dad saying goodbye.  When I hit the top of my street, I turned the light off. I had one other incident with him, but I will save that for letter V. It's good.... I did go have my car checked; there was nothing wrong. 

I thought I would share a poem I wrote about Hands. Some of you have already read this, it fits this post for me.

Memories arrive like scattered love letters,
Lines of life, wrinkles of time appear,
Aged, liver spots darken the thin skin, that papers the river of our hearts,
Extending branches, hands shaken, caressing a soul, teaching joy,
The evolution of our work,
They teach, they reach, they preach
They touch, they hold, they scold,
They love, plant and paint
They bake, hold and write
They sew, mend and fold
Tools of our souls holding onto dreams, praying,
A trace shares the ripples of past shadows,
Breathing light into dull, faded pearls,
An attic of memories tucked away, squeezed and pleased,
Faded skin like a fragile leaf, a branched out life,
Hardened blue veins, rivers that once rippled,
Underground thoughts surface with a touch,
Reaching the current of the soul,
Body language a gift, we can open doors to hearts,
Offer olive branches, pen letters of love and forgiveness,
A map of life's work shows the soul has lived,
As the river flows and the current grows weak,
Our hands extend the soul's beauty in how we speak.


Jennie Bailey said…
Your story gave me chills and then the poem added to it. What a twerp for not sticking around, but now you know why your Dad wasn't fond of him. He knew. Thank you for sharing both the poem and the story of your dad. I will be back for V!
Wanda said…
Wow, Ellie I can see why that experience would be memorable to you. I would have been scared too. Love the poem.
this makes a good story.. above
what a lovely poem!
And just to report to the Cake Nazi :) that I'm baking a B-day cake today, a peanut extravaganza, you shall see photographic evidence in a few days over at our Facebook headquarters :)
A wonderful poem puts me to shame,

Have a wonderful week-end.
jabblog said…
Fine memories and a memorable poem. Thank goodness cosmetic surgeons cannot do 'hand lifts';-) (Now I just know someone is going to say that they can . . .)
Bossy Betty said…
What a wonderful poem! I had a similar experience to yours after my father died.
Ella said…
Bossy Betty-email and tell me more; when time permits of course @>----

jabblog-Ought oh, I don't think they can, just yet...

Yvonne-Never, your painted prose always inspires and makes me emotional! Lady you have been published a whole book! Thank you for your kind words @>-----

Dezz-I will be by; Sounds wonderful; is it your B-day?! I will stop by...so I can oooh n' ahhh~lol

Wanda-I can remember it, like it happened a few yrs ago. Funny, how certain memories permanently
are etched in our brains. Thank you~

Jennie-Thank you for visiting me; Yes, I do believe my Dad knew...saw something, I didn't.
I will be by to visit~
Ella said…
Lisa-Thank you; I will be by soon~
Anonymous said…
That was very nice. And who knows, maybe your dad was protecting you from the beyond.
Siv Maria said…
Such a beautiful and heartfelt poem. I have no doubt that death does not stop us, it merely ssets us free. Thank you for sharing
Donna said…
That's a beautiful poem. And your story is just as freaky as mine were on my blog. Wow! But, I think he was there to say goodbye too. They all do it in their own way. A week after my ex husband died, I was driving to work and stopped at a red light. Standing there on the corner was a man who was a spitting image of my ex's grandfather and he had a german shepard beside him. The way he suddenly turned toward me and looked at me intensely freaked me out, but I didn't think about it much. After starting back down the road, I looked up into the rearview mirror and both of them were gone. I talking all of about 5 seconds. I didn't really think about it until a couple nights later when I had a dream of my ex. I still can't remember the dream other than his waving hand. I wonder if maybe his grandfather may have been sending some message for my ex, or something. I have no clue. But that was one intense freaky day for me.
Hannah Kincade said…
What a beautiful poem.
Anne K. Albert said…
Loved the story of your dad...some think that can't happen, but not me! Thank you for sharing.
Brianna said…
My favorite part -
A trace shares the ripples of past shadows,
Breathing light into dull, faded pearls
a sojourner said…
hi Ellie:)

i can't wait to read V either! i love the depth of your poems!!!
Spenc said…
I have never had an experience like that although I've known many people who have. I've always wanted to it's like a peek into the other side. Oh and I enjoyed your poem thank you for sharing.
Craig Edwards said…
That is a great poem! I have not had such an experience, myself, but I have known several people who have, and I always find their stories fascinating! Thanks for sharing it! Cheers!
Mary said…
Ella, your car story gave me the chills. It has the ring of truth, and I would hold onto the message that it WAS your dad. I do believe that on occasion the deceased stay around a while before totally saying good-bye.
Alex F. Fayle said…
I had a similar experience with my grandfather and cherish the moment close to my heart.
Amanda Trought said…
Ella, Not sure how I would have coped if it was me in the car! Your poem is beautiful, always inspires....stay blessed!
Marcus said…
Surely an odd experience but people we were close to always pop up in memory at certain times. Memories are what remain, but they can help out in the present.
Jules said…
Sometime we will have to compare ghost stories :) Loved the poem as well!
Jules @ Trying To Get Over The Rainbow
Elizabeth said…
I also have had encounters with my dad since he died, as well as with others. It tells me there is more to the spirit than we care to believe. Wonderful poem, it reaches out and touches the reader,

I lost my dad years ago and I still feel him with me. I wish my children had had a chance to know him.
Ella said…
Susan-My Dad didn't get to know my children either; I so know how that feels~ There are times that just make me wonder.... It is odd, both my children are like him, similar humor and traits. Sometimes it is like he is here.

Elizabeth-I have had encounters with my Dad n' grandmother. I was close to both of them...It does give one hope~ Thank you, so much; Means a lot!

Jules-Yes, let's do that; I would love to hear your encounters! Thank you~

Marcus-It definitely was odd and very memorable!
Memories do tie our souls together, in the threads of life.

Amanda-I was frightened; It is called Moose Pt because a lot of moose cross the highway there.
Thank you so much; I enjoyed your post with your Mom~ I'll be by!

Alex-Sometime I hope you will share; Thanks for telling me~

Mary-Thank you; there were other odd things. He had been playing a coke game. Winners on the bottle caps. He had bought a 6pkg of bottles. Everyone of them was a winner. It was strange; the alarm clock went off the time of his death. He died in the AM; it went off at exam time in the PM. If someone decided to do that to be funny...it was not~ Thanks for believing me~
I rode home the rest of the way with the light on~

Pebbles-Thank you; I wrote it awhile ago, but thought it fit this topic.

Craig-It is interesting to know these stories; It may happen to you someday and you will be open to it~ Thank you!

Spenc-It is like "A wrinkle in time" makes one ponder the what ifs! Thank you~

Hi Bud-I don't have a poem, for V, but I might just do one...It would be fitting! Thank you, so much~
Ella said…
Brianna-Thank you so much; the pearls remind me of ceremonies. He wasn't able to give me away. My brother walked me down the aisle... It means a lot~

Anne-I would love to hear, why someday! Thank you!

Hannah-Thanks for stopping by; Thank you~Nice to meet you~

Donna-How intense; thank you for sharing! I believe it~ I will be by~

Siv-Beautiful, sets us free...I like that~

Yes,Stephen, I believe he was. This person did try years later to enter my life. I was not interested~ Thank you!
LTM said…
ooo... our hands extend the soul's beauty. I love that. Gorgeous post~ :o) <3
I dream things that then happen in waking time. I also get messages while I dream. I never dismiss anything. I also sense things before they happen; I knew my mother had died before I got the telegram. Like that.
Ruthie said…
H is for Hands at my blog too! but now i am on I RuthieTootieWishes a follower
Lynette Killam said…
Wonderful poem, Ellie, and a powerful story...something my Irish soul understands completely...