In Memoriam

Four years ago today, David Pischke passed away.
I was standing at the kitchen sink when the call came. It was Lynne, David’s wife. She as sobbing uncontrollably and I knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. In the days that followed, many people said that one consolation about his untimely death is that he did not suffer. David died from a massive heart attack in his sleep. He was 56 years old.

The summer he died, little things started happening in my house. Lights would come on, the t.v. would turn off. I’d hear the floor creak in the kitchen, the unmistakable sound of someone walking across the floor. Over the last few years, a pattern has developed in that the noises happen more often in the summertime than in the winter.

Three mornings ago I was awake, trying to decide if I should get up or stay in be a little bit longer. Directly across from our bedroom is Mark’s office. That’s where I do the farm books and the kids are able to use the IBM computer to go on the internet and do homework. I thought that my niece Kassarah had gotten up early to finish her homework, which was very strange because she always does her homework right after school (yes, I know that’s weird but it’s completely true) and is as reluctant as every other teenager in the world to get up in the morning. Besides, it was 3:00 a.m. So I laid there and listened to the sound of someone working at the desk, the keyboard on the computer clicking as if someone was typing. No, this was not a dream. I was wide awake. I got up to check, momentarily thinking that maybe the sound was coming from MY office and that someone was in the process of stealing my laptop. Crazy things go through a person’s mind at 3:00 a.m.
Of course, nobody was there. Nobody ever is.
That afternoon I was folding laundry in the basement, watching Oprah at the same time. Folding laundry (and ironing) are two of the most boring household chores that a person can engage in and I need to watch t.v. while I do this. Anyway, I took Laurie’s pile of clothes and put them in his room, just off the little living room we have in the basement. His bedside lamp was on. It is one that turns on and off by touch. I shut it off, consciously wondering if it would be on again the next morning and it was.

I’m not the only person in the house who hears these noises. The funny thing is that it isn’t frightening at all. Of course there is no way to know if it is David’s spirit or not. Maybe the spirit has always been in the house and we just didn’t notice it before. But thinking it might be a close friend makes it easier to accept, and not at all scary.

When most people think of a spirit in the house it gives them the creeps. We’ve all seen too many haunting movies that are exaggerated to scare the shit out of movie goers. There is no frightening music, no visions of bloody death. The house doesn’t vibrate, we aren’t slammed up against the walls and the noises are not accompanied by an ominous wind or thunderstorm. In fact, footsteps in the hallway would make for a pretty boring movie.

People who don’t believe in ghosts and spirits can find all sorts of ways to explain away these strange happenings. I find this very humorous and have experienced enough that I can’t be convinced otherwise.

And for those of you who are fans of the book “Where Children Run,” you’ll be happy to know that I’m working on getting it reprinted. It’s a job I plan to finish sometime this summer – before life begins to get hectic again in the fall.

Maybe that’s what all the clicking on the keyboard was about. David or somebody else trying to tell me that it was time to get up and start writing.