Would I have to start planning outfits around the tattoo like I plan for weather?
This was recently brought to my attention, and I proceeded to lose my shit.
To Won’s Father
June 1, 1586
You always said, “Dear, let’s live together until our hair turns gray and die on the same day.” How could you pass away without me? Who should I and our little boy listen to and how should we live? How could you go ahead of me?
How did you bring your heart to me and how did I bring my heart to you? Whenever we lay down together you always told me, “Dear, do other people cherish and love each other like we do? Are they really like us?” How could you leave all that behind and go ahead of me?
I just cannot live without you. I just want to go to you. Please take me to where you are. My feelings toward you I cannot forget in this world and my sorrow knows no limit. Where would I put my heart in now and how can I live with the child missing you?
Please look at this letter and tell me in detail in my dreams. Because I want to listen to your saying in detail in my dreams I write this letter and put it in. Look closely and talk to me.
When I give birth to the child in me, who should it call father? Can anyone fathom how I feel? There is no tragedy like this under the sky.
You are just in another place, and not in such a deep grief as I am. There is no limit and end to my sorrows that I write roughly. Please look closely at this letter and come to me in my dreams and show yourself in detail and tell me. I believe I can see you in my dreams. Come to me secretly and show yourself. There is no limit to what I want to say and I stop here.
It's a letter, found on a 500 year-old Korean mummy written from his pregnant wife to him. I dare you not to get even a little misty eyed.
In so many of your comments you've mentioned you or a loved one being visited by a caring spirit who just wants to let you know they're okay and that they are with you. This letter really got me thinking about that.
My mom had three surgeries to remove lumps in her breasts while I was growing up. During the last surgery, the most invasive of the three, my mom was terrified.
As she lay on the surgical table waiting for the anesthesiologist to put her under, her anxiety became uncontrollable and she started to lose consciousness. At the moment she started to black out, a vision of her grandmother appeared at the foot of the table.
My mom tried to call out to her, but the doctors asked her to be quiet. Her grandmother, who was the only gentle person to my mom in her youth, remained gazing calmly upon her. As my mom watched her grandmother, a sense of calm, peace, and acceptance came upon her. All fear dissipated, and my mom says she felt herself regeain her senses.
The last thing she remembers before going to sleep for her surgery, was the feeling of her grandmother's hand in her's.
This could very well have been a hallucination or activity of a nervous mind grasping for comfort, but the idea of it, that a loved one could come to you in a time of need, is lovely to me.
I have not experienced anything of this sort, but I do have one small memory of love reaching out beyond the grave.
It was when my best friend took me to meet her other best friend, Catalina.
We were visiting my friend's home town, and we decided to go to the sprawling town cemetery. Everyone who has ever lived in the small Inland Empire, California town was buried there, many of the oldest tombstones being all but illegible. Some were even sinking into the earth.
Dusk was settling in and the cicadas were out chirping. Standing under a giant old tree, amidst so many crumbling headstones, and looking out across the green hills dotted with so many markers of so many people gone by, the effect was humbling -- peacefully minuscule.
"Would you like to meet Catalina?", my friend asked me.
Yes, of course, I answered and we got back into her car to drive down the cemetery road a ways.
When we reached the right section, a newer area with smaller, shinier markers, she stopped the car and we got out.
We picked our way across a subdivision of those small, in-ground marble grave markers, before we stopped close to the edge of fence line.
Smiling, with tears teasing her eyes, my friend said to me, with only a hint of heaviness in her voice, "Louise, meet Catalina. Catalina, this is Louise."
And we cried -- big, laughter filled tears. "Catalina", I said, "it's so good to finally meet you".
We chatted quietly for a while at Catalina's grave marker. My friend telling me a few stories about Catalina's and her adventures, the time leading up to Catalina's passing, her funeral.
I know this may all sound a bit morbid but the beauty of the moment, the love and connection that chirped around us with all those cicadas, was breathtaking.
It was getting really dark, so my friend cleaned up Catalina's grave a little, and we said goodbye.
All the feelings that surround that memory are so warm and joyful. Though there is a sort of macabre quality to the experience, and many people have been put off by the retelling of it, but it's a nice reminder to me that not all "creepy" experiences are necessarily scary.
I guess amidst my creepy experiences, this one sticks out to me as unique. Not your typical cemetery story.
I promise that next week we'll return to our regularly scheduled Creepy Corner programming.
Until then, are there any spooky stories that tug at your heart strings? Any stories of comfort from beyond the grave?
And this is Creepy Corner, after all, any good scary or sweet cemetery stories?