The willing Spirit
Hannah and Sam Pine, are forced to move when their mother dies. Hannah’s grief for the loss of her mother nearly pushes her into deaths waiting arms, until she becomes enveloped in the life of her handsome savior, Ethan Sun. Hannah fall’s desperately in love with Ethan, whom she deems perfect. It doesn’t take her long to realize that she isn’t too far off of her assumption, once she is exposed to his mysterious world. The stronger her love becomes for Ethan, the more extreme his deadly secrets get. Hannah is forced to push beyond human reason and confront the evil that lurks everywhere. She is faced with the battle of losing her beloved brother Sam, losing her eternal love Ethan, and most importantly, losing her soul. She will be forced to choose between right and wrong and realize that the spiritual realm of good and evil really does exist.
Watching your life flash before your eyes is something that I had heard many, many times. But have you every watched someone else’s life flash before your eyes?
That was exactly what I was doing right now.
I sat wedged between my twin brother Samuel, and my cousin Elizabeth, on the front row of the church. We sat in silence with the rest of my family; my grandmother or nana as we called her, my grandfather who we lovingly referred to as papa, my aunt Mimi who was Elizabeth’s mom, and who was also my mother’s sister and lastly, our step father Mitch.
We sat and watched the big screen at the front of the sanctuary, as flashes of photographs, and home movie clips were being played to music. This was my mother’s funeral, and we were all there to say goodbye to her.
It isn’t an easy thing to say goodbye to someone that’s so important to you when you’re only seventeen years old. I didn’t imagine it was any easier for Sam. It would be our senior year in high school next year. And what should be the grandest year of a teenager life was going to end up being the hardest without mom here for us.
It was harsh to sit and watch all the various photographs, and movie clips of her. In order to divert my pain, I tried to focus and concentrate on each one as it was displayed. I decided that if I concentrated hard enough on each image, that my mind would be busy with that task; where in, I wouldn’t wretch in pain with each memory that was paraded in front of hundreds of eyes.
I saw a picture of me and mom together when I was only two or three years old. She was sitting in a small flower garden with her legs crossed Indian style, and I was lying across her lap as she stroked my hair.
Next shown is a video clip of mom and Sam dancing in our living room when he was about six years old. They were both laughing as mom spun him around in circles. Then mom stopped, looked at the camera, and as I read her lips, I could see that she was saying, “Hannah, come dance baby.” I ran into the picture and we all danced together. We wiggled our bodies and threw our hands up in the air as we spun around. Mom looked at us like there was nothing else on the earth that very minute, except Sam and me. That was a fun day…a good memory but also agonizing to remember right now. “Concentrate Hannah, don’t feel — just watch!” I whispered to myself quietly.
More pictures…pictures of mom with her parents— Pictures of mom and Aunt Mimi when they were children — A picture of mom hugging Elizabeth as they both pressed their checks together and smiled so beautifully. Mom’s hair looked almost blonde while her head was pressed next to Elizabeth’s coppery auburn tendrils.
I couldn’t take much more of this! I loved and hated the little production all at the same time. The funeral director said that the slide show would be a good thing to incorporate into the service, to help people remember how lovely mom had been while alive. It would help people remember the good she had brought to their world. The service was conducted through mom’s wishes that she had carefully written down and left in the hands of our stepfather, in case this very thing were ever to happen. That was mom…always prepared, always had a plan B.
Next, I studied a photograph of mom with our father when they were young…maybe even before Sam and I were born. There are very few photographs or remembrances of him, since he died when Sam and I were only three years old. They seemed to look happy, but it was difficult to tell exactly.
I had to look away as the photos continue to scroll across the screen. This was cruel and unusual punishment.