hazel

We all want to talk to dead people, and we all try to do it in our own special and screwed up ways. If I ever had a daughter, I think I'd like to name her Hazel after my great grandmother, who I never met. There's no real reason for me to do something like this. My Dad tells me that she had a low, raspy voice and made lots of pies, and his eyes tear up when he tells me how much he wishes I could have met her. He tells me about his mother, Mildred, who died of stomach cancer when she was just fourty something. She worked at a women's clothing shop. My great grandfather once saved a bus full of people from getting hit by a train. These are the people I come from on my Dad's side, and this is all I know. I want these details to help explain who I am, my motivations, my body, and my fears. They probably never will, but that wish is all that keeps these people.... well... less dead. And why do I want them to be less dead? Because death is terrible, I think.

Touch a quilt. Write a Reqiem. Host a seance. You can talk to the dead, even if they don't listen.