You Don't Know Me

Before I start, I have a thing I want to discuss.

What is "I?"
Do you understand the depth of this question?
Although "I" have a name, the name is not "I," it's merely a convenient tag with which one may address "I," or talk about the strangeness of "I." My name is merely my tag, not even an effective descriptor of "I."
So "I" have a name; I also have a body. Note that "We," being all of the collective "I"'s in a group possess bodies. The body "I" inhabit is mine, however it is not "I." Well then "I" must be in the mind, but then "I" have a mind, "I" am not my mind, it - like my name and my body is something that"I" possess. So the question remains, what am "I." What is the one distinct, individual something that makes up an "I."
Virgil once said, "I think, therefor I am." True enough; Implicitly, by thinking, I am admitting awareness of the uniquely "I" of me. And yet....

What am "I?" I am, I exist. I can manipulate my body and all five of it's senses. I can use my mind to interpret the information these senses bring to my attention, I usually respond to my tag-name-handle, so that I know "who" I am, and I know "who" you are, but the question remains, "What am I, if not one of the things listed above?"

I have come to the conclusion that "I" am an essence, a presence, a "spirit" if you will, an entity of some strange origin which I don't remember, but can't forget. I think that deep down inside, below the place where my "family" memories lay, there is a place where I know. I know who "I" am, what "I" am, how "I" came to be, and most importantly, why "I" am.

My body will die someday, and being my link to and only way of interacting with other "I"'s in this three-dimensional reality we call "here and now," then with the passing of my body, "I" will apparently die too. Is this the truth of the matter though? Or is it merely that my ability to contact the rest of you within the framework of this realm, this "reality," will be dissolved.

To live on, without the framework of an aging body, not to mention the artificial framework of "time." That is a treasure. To be free. Truly, completely and irrevocably free. I wonder what awaits out there, beyond the pale of "human" understanding. "Human" being defined as the body and mind that "I" inhabit and make use of within the framework of this reality, which is merely an illusion, or possibly a delusion.

My wife "died" in childbirth. At the time of her death, I didn't believe in "life-after-death" per se. I didn't believe in ghosts, an afterlife - or that the "dead" were anything other than dead; asleep; taking the proverbial "Dirt Nap." I was raised in a Fundementalist Church which taught that when you die, you sleep until the 2nd coming of Christ, and furthermore that any apparition, or unexplainable occurance could and properly should be accounted to "Demon" activity. In short, there was no such thing as Ghosts, that any manifestation was a demon trying to trick the true Christian into believing a falsehood, that ghosts exist. That the Spirit of a person, their essence was capable of living on beyond their death. Oh no, that just leads to more falsehood. Of course the Church also teaches that one should properly pay all of one's tithe to the said church. That it's sinful to spend that ten percent of one's money in any other way to help others. Nevermind, that's a different subject altogether - but you get the idea.

So, my wife and I were living in the last house my father had known before his death, an we both would "see" him out of the corner of our eye. Usually at night, about the time he used to go to bed, one or both of us would glimpse him walking through the house, checking doors and windows. Getting the house ready for bed which was his routine for most of a century. I always told myself that it was just my memory of him.

After she died, I heard the baby laughing in her crib one early morning about 4 am. I had just fed her at 3, so she should have slept until around 6. That was her routine at that time, anyway.
I woke up to her laughter, and went into her room to check on her. When I turned on the light, my little 3 month old baby was laying in her crib, dirty diaper off and rolled up, her sleeper up around her chest, with a fresh diaper and baby powder placed in the crib at her feet. She and I were the only 2 people in the house. That kind of thing makes one think.

My sister used to have my daughter over to spend the night occasionally. She felt sorry for my daughter not having a mother, and wanted to try to make up the difference for her in some small way. My sister has a little boy who is a year or so older than my daughter. He didn't understand about sharing his mommy with another child and was jealous of her. He would occasionally try to take it out on my daughter. One night, my sister called me at 1 am, telling me that she was bringing my daughter home. I could hear her son screaming in the background.
When she arrived at my house with my baby, I asked her what had happened. She said that her son and my daighter were sharing his room, and that apparently at about 11pm he had thrown one of his baby toys at her in the crib. She said that he'd begun screaming at the top of his lungs, had run from his room and wouldn't go back in there. He would stand outside the bedroom door, point and talk excitedly about something apparently on or in the ceiling over my daughter's bed. If my sister or her husband tried to take him back into the room, he would begin screaming and crying again. This behavior lasted until my sister brought my daughter home. She told me, "I don't know what or who is protecting your daughter, but as long as it's there, she's not welcome in my home again."

My daughter has always, and still does, talked and laughed to some spot over her crib. She looks up, near the ceiling fan and talks and laughs for hours with someone. She has 2 pictures of her mommy on her dresser. Without having ever been told who that is, she always tells the pictures, "Good morning, mommy" every morning. She also tells them "G'night," but not always. I have had several people tell me that my wife is a strong presence in the house. That they can still feel her there. I have heard her talking on occasion, and one Saturday night I was laying on my bed, watching TV, when my closed bedroom door swung open of its own accord, then swung halfway back. I did the only thing I could, I said, "Hi Baby, I miss you and thanks for checking on me. I'm alright and I love you." I slept good that night.

Now, after more than 2 years, she isn't that strong of a presence. I think she's fading a little. It may just be that she knows that we are taken care of. I now have another woman in my life. My daughter calls her "momma," and loves her. She still remembers though. The other day, she came to me, crawled into my lap with ehr favorite little blanket and after sucking her thumb for a few minutes, looked up at me and said, "Daddy? Do you remember when Mommy died?" Choking up, I said, "Yes." She laid her head back on my chest and said, "Me too. I was sad."
To myself, I was saying, "No, she didn't just say that. I must have heard wrong." But I didn't.
For me, my wife is fading. I think she knows that I'm moving on with my life. For our daughter, she may never fade completely away, although her presence isn't as obvious as it was.