Sheila MacMillan 21.10.69 - 11.01.08 Age 38
Funeral was on the 22th February.
Strange things have been happening.
Sheila died on Friday. Saturday night I got up at 3am. Suddenly my lights went out, I switched the living room light on, and it was flickering away fast. The switch has blown. Now, what surprised me, it had no effect to the meter. The meter has a light switch for all lights in the house, when anything is faulty it triggers off. I need to climb up and push the switch back up. Not this time. It bloody cost me £10 for new switch. If this has anything to do with my sister, she owes me £10.
I had the most amazing strange dream on Sunday, but to be honest, all my dreams are strange. A symbol was drawn with beautiful bright colours in this amazing blue coloured sky, and then a beautiful eclipse was shown, with a warm breeze, wow!! What a dream, you cannot get a copy of these colours.
I remembered last year, when my Sheila and I were talking about my brothers funeral. She said to me,
"She didn't like black at funerals. On my funeral, everyone has to wear bright colours, have a party and get pissed".
This was Sheila's exact words. So, at the funeral, I wore lilac. Only problem, I don't drink, so my Aunty Linda, lovely woman, said to me,
"You wear the bright colours and we'll drink". Aunty Linda is the most down to earth, one of the loveliest woman I have ever met, and her family is the same.
I wrote a poem for my sister, and if you have read the last story, you will understand it. Sheila's daughter read it and liked it, and the priest read it in church.
(My parents wanted one word changed, so pissed was changed to merry, bit stupid when her death was caused by taking drugs, not drink).
Right at the last sentence of my poem, you wouldn't believe what happened. But if anyone knows me you would believe.
My mobile ring tune has the 'road rage' voice. The priest was reading, the mobile went off, right at the second last sentence. Sheila wasn't really a religious person, and you heard was "Get the **** off the road" etc etc
Everyone got a fright. I jumped and grabbed the bag and sat on it. The tune turned off, and I turned the mobile off. I was mortified. I couldn't believe it, the day before I mentioned to a friend, I better leave my mobile at home just in case, and she remembers me even saying it. In fact I don't remember putting it in my bag.
I mean it never went off any other time in the ¾ hour of the ceremony, just right at the last sentence of my poem. F***!
"Thanks Sheila, well, does that mean you liked the poem or not?"
I mean it was her who got me into the voice ring tone, hers was the guy swearing to answer the F*** phone, I thought was funny. This was embarrassing. I hid in shame.
The time the mobile rang was exactly 14 15, and number withheld.
Freaky or what!!!!!
Here is the poem I wrote for her.
To my Sister Sheila
You knew where to find me
Drunk, sober or maybe mad
So, to see you leave early
It made me so sad
Tell me all your sorrows
Now the sun has set
I might have an answer for tomorrow
So you can't leave just yet
I wish you could stay
For a cup of tea and cake
Anyway, the clouds are looking grey
So leaving would be a mistake
Why not stay another week
We'll try another walk or three
The weather is looking bleak
So best you stay close to me
I need one more reason
I can't take you home in a storm
Anyway, outside looks freezing
So, why not stay and keep warm
My house is untidy tonight
This reason may sound funnier
So why not stay another night
For tomorrow may be sunnier
Sure I asked you to stay
Before I turned the lights out
But when I woke up yesterday
I found you weren't about
Lots of Love Zena
p.s. I hope you can read this
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