I believe in it all—angels, astrology (I worry that my scheduled C-section will one day give my daughter an astrological identity crisis), the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, leprechauns, good luck, bad luck, knocking three times, black cats, vampires and werewolves.
I never doubt anyone’s God because to me, if you can’t prove it’s there how can you prove it’s not? And as a practicing Very Bad Catholic I think our Fish-Only rule on Friday is crazy. What if I get up there and God’s a giant cod? Then what?
But most of all, I absolutely believe in the afterlife. So much so that I made this plea to The Long Island Medium on Twitter after my grandmother called me from a dresser a few months after she passed away:
So, it shouldn’t surprise you that when my mother had an encounter with my stepfather who passed away six months ago, I was the first person she called to tell. The conversation went like this:
Mom: I got a visit from Dave!
Me: Did he call you from the dresser? You should really put a phone in there. I’m afraid I’m missing calls.
Mom: Nope. Better. (Excited pause) I smelled his fart.
Me: A ghost fart?
Mom: Yup. I’m telling you it was him.
Me: Do you really think it’s appropriate to blame it on your dead husband, Mom? Plus you live alone. Who are you hiding it from?
Mom: Diana, I lived with the man for 30 years I know what his farts smell like.
Me: You’re telling me his farts have a signature scent—like Cinnabon and Abercrombie & Fitch?
Mom: Yes. It was him. I’m sure of it.
Me: Well then that’s just rude. The guy hasn’t seen you in six months and that’s how he says hello. I’d be pissed.
Mom: Why?! I think it’s sweet. He wanted to make sure I knew it was him.
Me: Sweet? I’d hate to see what he got you for Christmas.
Mom: You don’t believe me?
Me: I totally believe you. A woman knows her husband’s farts.
Mom: Thank you!
Mom: You still there?
Me: Yeah, hold on. I think Dave’s visiting me. (Pause) Wait. Nope. That’s just a hello from the 8 ounces of sweet potatoes the baby ate last night. I should go.
Me: Mom, wait!
Me: If he visits you again can you ask him if God is a cod?
For Mother’s Day I gave her a beautiful framed picture of the two of them…and an Air Wick.
Ps. Still don’t believe in ghost farts? Check out my post, I GOT GAZZZZZZZ. It just might make you a believer.