February 28, 2012

There is life after death.

The people who are most important to you in your life, often leave a large impression. Influencing and shaping your life in ways that will remain with you permanently and become the core of your very being. So much so that everything they give to you is a second nature. I have often found myself wondering whether things I personally feel are devices of my own conclusion or the projections of influence that have led me to think them.

For instance, do I REALLY hate drinking soup with a dessert spoon rather than a proper soup spoon? Or is that my Grandmother speaking? When I said it out loud in a cafe yesterday, the voice felt disconnected from me and I thought 'Is there really something so wrong with drinking your soup with the wrong spoon?'. This giant quandary often plays on my mind. It gives me sleepless nights I tell you, amongst other things. My mother has always religiously made me put the toilet seat down. To the extent now that I scold my boyfriend for not doing so. Seriously though, why not throw caution to the wind and just leave the damn thing up? When I speak the words, I hear an eerie echo of my mother ringing through my voice like a bell. Almost like she has momentarily possessed me.

What I have to wonder with small things such as the soup spoon quandary, is that if they were part of an external influence, where did the influence initially come from? Whose ideas were these to begin with?

Why did my Grandmother always say 'never look at a crescent moon through glass'--- why ever not Grandma? Pray! Do tell! Everytime I see a crescent moon through glass I feel like my eyes have befallen a ghastly spectacle! And you NEVER TOLD ME WHY. However, I'm like a little parrot quipping away to people 'Never look at a crescent moon through glass, ok? Promise me you just. won't. do. it.'

Now, por favor, please cast your minds back to when I begged the question 'what happens when everyone who knew her dies?'... this was in reference to my opinion on the idea of haunting and that haunting isn't some scary spook lingering in your closet, but the day to day memories that you have of a loved one and that by remembering them, they live on. So what does happen to my theory once everyone who remembers that person has finally snuffed it?

WELL, we pay it forward, don't we? We pass all of our favourite little thoughts, sayings, wisdom, neuroses, superstitions and ticks to our favourite people (and sometimes not so favourite people), who adopt them and make them their own.

It is quite possible therefore, that we all possess the qualities of a character long gone. Not only through genetics but through the effect they had on the people around them. Perhaps a minor idiosyncrasy or rather a large quirk. Either way, we are all made-up of the little things that people leave behind: causing them, in essence, to live forever.

I wonder which parts of you and me will live forever?
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