Dawn's Notes
Halloween Hollow - October 2024
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
My grandparents lived in a large house with a wrap-around porch in Tennessee. “Pappy,” as we called our grandpa, usually grew tobacco that he cut and hung to dry in a large tobacco barn not far from the house. “Miss E” was my grandma. Her real name was Era Araminta Jane—the folks in the South used to give their children multiple names.
By Halloween, there was usually a chill in the nighttime air, a harbinger of cooler days to come, when we got dressed up for our Halloween trek in the woods to a little cabin about a half mile up the hollow from where my grandparents lived. I can remember shivering from the cold and wishing I had taken my mother’s advice to wear a coat, but I never wanted to cover up my costume.
A small stream with many twists and turns meandered through my grandparents’ farm. We called it “the branch.” It was one of our favorite places to play on the hot, sultry days when my siblings and cousins visited our grandma, and that gently babbling brook became a part of our childhood Halloween memories.
Each autumn we looked forward to getting dressed up in old masks and clothes many sizes too large that were kept in an old wardrobe—we did not have any store-bought Halloween costumes back in those days. My sisters and I would wind our way up the hollow, single file, led by my sister Joy, five years older, who was in charge. The path was narrow, and Joy carried the only flashlight that provided a tiny ribbon of light in the darkness.
The Crawfords, an elderly couple, lived in the little cabin, fairly isolated from the world. At that time, there were few cars, so Mr. Crawford had to ride his horse to the nearest store a few miles away for supplies. We loved the Crawfords, and they loved us, and going to see them was an adventure. When we knocked on their door on Halloween night, Mrs. Crawford acted like she was terrified of us. Back then, we thought she truly was afraid. Now we know she was not afraid at all—she was just putting on an act to make our Halloweens more fun!
Even though our trek up the hollow was an event we looked forward to, it was also scary. I always hoped that my sister Joy who led the way would remember how to get to the cabin, and I hoped the flashlight would not go out. I wondered: What if we get lost? Would anyone ever find us? What if one of us got hurt? What if someone or something was watching us from the darkness—a very scary thought—so I tried to keep my eyes on the path rather than the woods!
It was sometimes difficult time to see the path when the “eye holes” of my mask kept moving around as I walked—I had to frequently adjust my mask. As we crossed the branch, we sometimes missed the stepping stones in the dark or the stones flipped, causing us to fall in the water. When we finally reached the cabin which was dimly lit by kerosene lamps, Mrs. Crawford came to the door, and the drama began! She acted like she was terrified of us!
When I was a child, I was convinced that we were really scary, that she was really scared. So, after we had sufficiently “scared” her, we would lift our masks and say, “It’s just us!” and she would look very relieved! I now know she was just playing a part, giving us memories we would never forget!
The journey through the darkness on our way to the cabin was scary, yet there was joy when we arrived. And as an adult, I have learned that life is made up of happy events and scary ones. Joyous memories and sad ones. There were happy memories when my husband and I were married and when our children were born. Yet the future would hold devastating events and memories after my husband was diagnosed with cancer and died.
Since I had some time to adjust to the possibility of his death, I thought I was somewhat prepared, but I was not. It was much harder than what I had anticipated, and I was surprised by some of my overwhelming emotions.
So maybe that’s why I relate to the quote by C.S. Lewis. After his wife Joy died, he said, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.”
After my husband died, I wondered if life could ever be good again. And my biggest question was if there was a purpose for my life. I felt like that little girl walking up the hollow in the dark with a tiny glimmer of a flashlight that was held by someone else; I felt like I had no control of my life. At times I fell down and had to pick myself up, dry off, and keep on walking. But I learned that better times would come and I still had a purpose.
If you are grieving, take heart. You will grieve. You will hurt. You may even feel afraid. But life will get better. So search for the tiny ribbons of light to guide you, and just keep walking.
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator