The Dog Star and its Pup

As I reflect upon Michael's life and replay memories of him on this 13th anniversary of his death, I'm feeling especially close to his soul due to some intriguing information I learned just this week. 

Six years ago, I had discovered his soul name when he appeared during my profound Life between Lives experience. During hypnosis, the name Sirius was communicated to me by his soul being. I knew that to be the name of a star, but when I saw it spelled out in white letters in my mind's eye, it read Cirius. I immediately started laughing because I recognized his great sense of humour coming through. Of course it would be spelled with a C instead of an S. He was playing with me, and with the synonym 'serious', which was pretty well the opposite of who he was, most of the time. Funny guy!

A few days ago, after a short meditation, I became curious about the star. As it turns out, Sirius is a binary star located in the constellation Canis Major.  Sirius A, also known as the Dog Star, is the brightest in the night sky! Sirius B, affectionately called the Pup Star, is its white dwarf companion. What a scene that conjures up in my mind. Michael and Diesel, best buds here on earth, now possibly the Dog and its Pup hanging out in the universe together, their star energy shining brightly! 

Body and Soul

 

     Awoke to a bright, blue sky morning. A walk in the sunshine along the ocean later today wins out over an indoor swim at the local pool.  The sun lights up the floating shelf in the den, dedicated to pictures and mementos of Michael, as well as Kelly. Knowing it had been quite some time since I last dusted up there, I grabbed a cloth, and one by one, removed each piece in order to clean them, as well as the shelf itself. 

     I reflected on the memory of each precious item: the photo of the two of them at our oldest daughter's rehearsal dinner, a candle I had lit for Kelly at a Compassionate Friends event, a picture of Michael as a young teen, another of him as an adult, a starfish decoration representing "as above, so below" from a dear friend, a silk butterfly from a floral arrangement sent by a salon owner I had only met a few times, the framed Post-it Note Michael had written to remind the two of them what had to be dealt with before they departed the cabin that fateful morning, and a tiny crystal bowl cradling found pennies, feathers, a baby picture, and more. 

     Midway through this process, it dawned on me that the sadness that had been creeping into my body and soul over these past few days was most certainly due to the fact that the anniversary date of the accident was looming. In nine days, we will be at the ten year marker. A decade since he passed. The word decade has weight, representing a significant span of time with respect to human life, but of course, with respect to grief, it means little. One year, five years, ten years, it hardly matters ... none of the anniversaries really feel much easier than the others.

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Precious Birthday Connections

     Early January marks three significant birthdays of people very dear to me (two now in pure spirit form and one here on Earth) - my mother's on the 4th, my son's on the 8th and a close friend's is on the 9th. Last year's incredible display of spirit energy related to these birthdays will be hard to beat. 
     On the morning of January 5th, 2019, I tied a bouquet of flowers to my mother's memorial bench in Edgemont Village as a belated acknowledgement of her birthday. I then strolled over to one of my favourite home decor shops, a fixture in this community for 30 years, run by a mother/daughter team. While driving by the shop the previous day, I had decided I would buy my close friend a gift card from here which I would pop in the mail for her birthday. As the daughter (who happened to attend high school with Michael) rang in my purchase, her mother asked me for the name of the recipient so that she could personalize the card with calligraphy. While she was putting the finishing touches on the present with cello wrap and ribbons, I began telling her that the gift was for my friend of over 40 years. Midway through, something caused her to freeze. A moment later, she proceeded to tell me what had happened to her shortly before leaving home that morning. She had been standing near her husband's computer area, looking up at the huge bookshelf filled to the brim with books. All of a sudden one of the books fell off the shelf and landed right in her hands. She immediately recognized it as my book, Diary of an Intuitive, wrapped in its protective cello sleeve. She mentioned that she hadn't looked at it for a few years and couldn't figure out why it had fallen. Then, as she continued telling me the story, she put two and two together and told me it had been my son. Being intuitive and sensitive to spirit energy, she realized why that particular book and why that morning.
      Then it was my turn to share details with her that would flesh out the entire experience. I explained that I had just come from my mother's memorial bench whose birthday was the day before, that Michael's birthday would be in three days time, and that my good friend, who was extremely close to Michael and celebrating her birthday the day after his, would for the very first time be missing our family birthday celebration at The Old Spaghetti Factory in Michael's honour. She had also edited my book. For the shopkeeper to share her experience with me made my day, filling my heart to near bursting, and gave me something precious to reflect upon for years to come.
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Photo credit: Bruno Glaetsch

Finding Comfort Within a Dream

     

     And so it begins ... emotionally, the most challenging few weeks of the year with regards to Michael's absence, from the beginning of December until his birthday early January. Plans for the Christmas season being made, decorations unpacked, seasonal music playing - all things, that for the most part, bring me joy. However, it's hard to ignore the huge spotlight that shines on all that is family, resulting in his absence holding an even larger space in my life.
     During this past weekend, I felt the sadness and tension building in my body, despite having spent a joy-filled afternoon up Grouse Mountain with my grandchildren the day before. While readying for bed Sunday night, I gazed into the bathroom mirror and from deep within my heart, beseeched Michael to please come through in a dream. I needed to connect with him, communicate with him, be with him.  It had been a few years since he had appeared in a dream.
     After waking the next morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee and wandered into the living room, surprised to see my husband sitting there, as he's often left for work by 7am. Settling into the comfy lounge chair across from him, I suddenly remembered that I did have a dream about Michael, but before I could even start sharing it with my husband, I began to cry - releasing some of the tension that had been building, along with the surprise that it had actually happened.  
     In the dream, I was walking down the narrow hallway of a house (not my own), when I came to a small room off to the right, its door half way open. Looking in, I noticed a single bed - no other furniture or decor. Lying on his back on top of the bedcover was a young male wearing sweat pants and a black hoodie. As I stepped closer, I saw that he was awake and guessed him to be about 14 years old. My first thought was that he looked very similar to Michael but I knew he was dead and had been an adult when he died, so I was confused. However, when I reached the bed, I knew it was him. I sat down beside him, in awe. With his eyes meeting mine, I took in his radiant round face and sweet smile. My heart melted. As I bent down to hug him, I asked how this was possible, how he was able to appear to me as a boy, fully alive. He explained that it was not easy but that he had chosen to squeeze into this shape so that I would easily recognize him and find comfort. Finding comfort, that I did. Understanding how this all works, no idea at all. Just so glad that it does.
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PS - I went into the storage room to find a photo of Michael to add to this post and the first album I pulled out held this one, Christmas 2000 aged 14 wearing his black hoodie 💗 

Love, Love, Love...

     With my husband away doing chores up at the cabin last weekend, I spent numerous hours sorting through everything in our storage room, deciding what to keep, donate, recycle or toss. Much of the work was fairly easy since we've only lived in this home for 6 1/2 years.  

     A bag containing knitting needles and wool, along with the abandoned notion of ever becoming a decent knitter - donate to a friend. The contents of a binder filled with training information for my volunteer position during the 2010 Olympics - recycle. Cake platter, vases, picture frames, artificial flowers, dishes, and numerous knickknacks - donate to charity. Broken stemware  - toss. My mother's Danish-designed casserole dishes, gravy boat and coffee cups, all in mint condition, along with my Oma's soup tureen - relocate to kitchen for daily use.

     When I reached the bottom shelf, I pulled out the box labelled 'Michael's stuff', along with his black 'The Orchard on Bowen' satchel. I carried both inside the house with the intention of revisiting them later that evening, not wanting to distract myself from the task at hand. However, my curiosity soon won out so I opened up the satchel and began flipping through the handouts and scanning the notes he had made during his time in rehab. After a few minutes, I remembered that I had read all of this shortly after he died. It was difficult to reread and I knew I needed to set it aside for now, otherwise I would get pulled too deeply into the sadness.  

     Returning to the storage room, the next box I tackled was filled with decorative items I had collected over many, many years but no longer displayed or used.  Among other things, I found a genie lamp, miniature red book with each page containing the words I love you in  more than 30 languages, quartz crystals, red glass heart, as well as a green stone one. What a beautiful surprise. I vaguely recognized some of the items but have no recollection where any of them came from. It was as if the universe was taking this moment to show me some tangible representations of love that has been, and continues to be, present in my life. I gifted the genie lamp to my granddaughter, a crystal to my grandson, and placed the remaining  items into the dedicated silver bowl in my den, alongside the many other love tokens already there. 

     The following morning, I took advantage of the beautiful weather and walked along seawall in West Vancouver. Midway along the route, I glanced over at the tiny park tucked in off the  path and stopped in my tracks. Someone had taken the time to rake the fall leaves into the shape of a gorgeous heart.  Love, love, love ...

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Nourished in Nature

     A while back, on a cool and cloudy Sunday morning, my husband and I were wondering where to go for a good, long walk. I was thinking False Creek, an area we frequent regularly, when he threw out the idea of the 11 km loop trail around Burnaby Lake. It had been more that a year since we last explored that area, so off we went. 
     About 1/2 hour in on our nature walk, I mentioned to him that seeing a hummingbird nest is still high up on my wish list but that I had no idea how to find one. Even though we have numerous hummers visiting our backyard feeders daily, finding a nest has been fruitless. I continued thinking out loud that maybe I should contact a local Birding Association for some direction. Moments later, my husband said he had a Facebook friend Rob who is an avid birder and photographer, and that maybe he would be able to give me some direction. He told me that they had known each other in high school but were in different grades and not spent much time together. Then a few years ago, Rob had sent my husband a FB request which he accepted. 
     It seemed like this man might be a good resource so I filed the idea to contact him in the future. Then a few minutes later, I decided - Why not now? I asked my husband for his phone and messaged Rob explaining who I was and asking if he had any suggestions on how to find these elusive nests.
     About 45 minutes later, we were now on the other side of the lake when we passed a man and a woman walking together towards us. A few moments after we passed each other, my husband stopped in his tracks, turned around and walked back to where the couple had paused to take photos. He asked the man if his name was Rob. Oh yes, it was - the same Rob I had just messaged!  We explained who we were and mentioned the text message which he had not yet noticed. After a short visit during which Rob shared, among other things, some information with us about hummers and their nests, my husband and I carried on walking the loop trail, both gobsmacked by what we had just experienced. My husband could not get over, a) he had actually taken note of the couple as we passed ( he is generally daydreaming, not noticing much in the way of details), b) walked back to ask the man's name (his nature is to second guess himself, then dismiss a thought like this), and incredulous that he would recognize him. Turns out that Rob only posts his nature photos on FB, none of himself, not even in his profile picture.
     All of this unfolded on a day when I was deeply missing Michael. All morning, it had taken great resolve to keep the intense sadness from tipping into despair, the heartache only beginning to ease midway through our walk.  I am still searching for the tiny hummingbird nest but confident that I will have the joy of seeing one someday. In the meantime, I cherish this sustaining experience of electrifying synchronicity.
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Image courtesy of Brigitte Werner 

Who's That Honking?

     Earlier this month, after running errands for the following day's family get-together, I was driving north on Capilano Road when I approached a red light at the Ridgewood Drive intersection, close to my home. First in line was a sedan, followed by a black pickup truck, then me. After the light turned green, the sedan was not quick enough off the mark as far as the truck driver was concerned, so they gave a short honk. It had only been a matter of maybe two seconds, but as far as the truck driver was concerned, that wait was too long. 
      I can also be impatient behind the wheel at times, but a honk two seconds in was pushing it. I was instantly reminded of my son. Mike had also had a pickup truck and liked to travel fast. It flashed through my mind that he too may have honked in that situation. Smiling to myself while slowly shaking my head from side to side with a silent 'oh Mike',  I started following the traffic up the hill. Moments later, I noticed the truck's license plate: MG 8600 which I immediately read as Michael Gibson, born in '86, and now no longer here. By the time I turned into my driveway, I was laughing and flooded with gratitude for this opportunity to add one more occurrence to my long list of fabulous experiences of feeling connected to my son.
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Signs of Support

     Tomorrow marks the 8th anniversary of Michael's death. Rather than taking flowers to Boal Memorial on the actual date, as I have in the past, this year I decided ahead of time that I would go this morning - a mental health choice that I felt would make tomorrow a little easier and more uplifting.
     A few weeks ago, a friend of mine invited me to participate in a community fundraiser - an afternoon Scrabble Tournament taking place on March 7th to raise money for grandmothers in Africa. My husband and I play Scrabble most evenings so I knew it could be an enjoyable event and said "yes", grateful for the distraction, the opportunity to support a good cause, and knowing I would have the support of this friend on a trigger day, another mother who lives with the loss of a child. Later this month will mark seven years since her adult daughter's accidental death.
     This morning, my plan was to walk my younger daughter's chocolate lab Barrett (related to Diesel and born four days before the fatal accident involving Mike, Kelly and Diesel), along the river for about an hour, then take him with me to Boal, which would be his first time there.  After getting into my car (which was parked in the carport), I reached over to close my door when I noticed one small feather lying on the ground nearby. Smiling to myself, I reached down and picked it up, then placed it on the seat beside me - thankful for this little sign.
     After fetching Barrett, I drove to Bridgeman Park, located beside Lynn Creek. Due to the ongoing construction in the area, I had not been there since last spring but today, it felt like the right place to go. I parked the car, leashed up the dog and let him out. He instantly beelined it to a fence post about 30 metres away, to take a pee. As I stood there waiting for him, I looked up at the post and could hardly believe my eyes -  a small, pink heart resting near the top! Obviously, the perfect spot for our walk together today.
     After our river walk, we visited Boal, then after dropping him off, I headed home. Later, I picked up my granddaughter after school and brought her back to my house. She immediately noticed the feather I had now placed on my kitchen counter and told me she had found one that looked exactly the same. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a twin feather. When I asked her about it, she told me she had found it while walking along Mosquito Creek during her class field trip this morning, put it into her pocket until she got back to school, then into her knapsack for safekeeping! The signs and loving energy of the day filled my well, placing me in good stead for tomorrow.
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Family Connections

     My new sister-in-law was curious about witnessing connection to spirit via mediums, so last night, we met for an evening mediumship demonstration at the International Spiritual Alliance (ISA) in order for her to experience it firsthand. She was hopeful about receiving messages from her parents who had both passed long ago. 
      It had been years since I last attended one of these ISA sessions and I was looking forward to the evening. I had never met the medium who would be giving the demonstration but having read up on her, I knew she was very experienced and I was confident that it would be a great event. Seeing the vivid rainbow while driving out there was a bonus.
     With about thirty people seated in the audience, I knew that time would not permit everyone to receive information from loved ones but I was hopeful that messages for my sister-in-law would come through. As it turned out, we would both hear from spirit.
     As has often been the case, it didn't take long for Michael's spirit to appear. About ten minutes in, the medium began describing the spirit of a young man she had with her: that he had died suddenly in an road accident, just as he had finally been getting on with his life. That he had been as shocked as everyone else because his death had happened so suddenly. The medium also picked up on Kelly's spirit and commented on how the two of them had planned on sharing their lives together. The medium then mentioned a ring worn on a pinky finger. I was fairly sure that Mike didn't have one - I thought perhaps Kelly had but this message wasn't resonating with me so we left it and moved on. Mike's spirit then mentioned kayaking and instantly the scene one of his friends had captured in a cabin photo flashed through my mind. The one of him capsizing in the lake. His message was about cautioning me to take care when kayaking and also, that he would send a sign for me to recognize the next time I was out on the water. I am planning to go on an ocean kayak outing with one of my daughters next month and look forward to seeing what appears. I also noted the fact that my sister-in-law is an avid kayaker and thought it was interesting that this topic would come up.
     About an hour later, near the end of the session, the medium's attention was drawn to my sister-in-law and the medium began describing the spirit of her grandfather, as well as providing evidence of him, referring to the small business he had established as a tailor, as well as other details. Soon her father, mother and little brother (who had died when he was young child), all showed up as well, with many messages that she took to heart. This was the first time I had witnessed so many family members coming through for someone - they had obviously all been eagerly awaiting this occasion. 
     After the evening wrapped up, my sister-in-law pulled up the sweater sleeve that had been covering her right hand to show me the two gold rings she was wearing on her pinky finger - simple gold bands she had made for her parents long ago, while working as a goldsmith. After her mother died, her father continued to wear his own ring and added his wife's band to his pinky finger until his death almost twenty years later. These rings were the only personal possessions she had of her parents and she had worn them here in the hopes of facilitating the connection to their spirits. She told me that she was sure it had been her father's idea to have Mike mention the pinky ring so that she would recognize the truth in all this. The mention of kayaking was also not lost on her. 
     It seems that Michael's spirit was keen to assist loved ones to make the connection with their granddaughter/daughter/ sister - this loving woman who is now also part of my family. She never met my son but certainly recognized his efforts on her behalf and appreciated his eagerness to share with her the incredible experience of spirit communication. That's my boy!
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Seven and a Half Years

     My husband was long overdue for a new pair of runners but shopping for personal items is something he puts off for as long as possible. With a soon-to-expire gift card for a large sporting goods retailer, I suggested he go shopping after work yesterday, and offered to go along for moral support.
     After arriving at the store, we made our way over to the men's athletic footwear department, where we encountered a wall displaying close to a hundred different styles and models. As a Libra, making decisions can be challenging for him, and with this many options to consider, it could be overwhelming. After a short time, he enlisted the help of a young staff member (about 18 or 19 years old), and after explaining to the clerk what he was looking for in a shoe, the young man made a couple of recommendations, then went off to find the correct sizes.
     Seated on a nearby bench, watching the interactions between these two, I suddenly remembered a story one of Michael's friends had shared with us after Mike died, regarding the job our son had had at this same store when he was in his late teens. With minimal job training, it turns out that Mike would sell sporting goods to customers by making suggestions based on very little product knowledge, essentially faking his way through his shifts there. Thinking of that story now brought a huge smile to my face and I wondered how knowledgeable this particular staff member was. As the young man approached me, I looked up at his name tag and could hardly believe it - Michael! 
     September 7th - exactly 7 1/2 years since our son died. Sadness had begun draping itself over me the day before and had fully enveloped me by the time I awoke yesterday. Once I realized what the date was, I understood why. Thankfully, a couple of weeks earlier, I had randomly arranged to meet up for an afternoon walk with a long time friend for this day - an outing which resulted in a shift to lighter energy. Topping it off with this occurrence while shopping with my husband was a bonus - it made my day! And yes, my husband came home with a new pair of runners, thanks to Michael.
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Family Time at the Cabin

     During our recent cabin vacation, there was a late evening conversation with family members about Michael's spirit coming through at an ISA gathering a few weeks ago. For over an hour we talked about how highly detailed a medium's descriptions and messages from spirit can be, and we discussed the meaningful information received. Then, with bedtime approaching, it was time to let out the dog so one of Mike's relatives opened the front door and turned on the porch light, only to discover it promptly flashing on and off in uneven bursts of light for quite some time, before going completely dark and remaining so. We were all within view and our first thought while watching the spectacle was that maybe it was a burned out bulb, but simultaneously processing that they don't die out in that fashion. We soon understood what was going on, as this playing with light had occurred many times since Michael's death, to various family members in numerous locations, during times of conscious spiritual connection to him. However, this was a first for us at our cabin. The next morning, I flicked on the light switch to check out the bulb, and of course, it was totally fine and continued to shine, without incident, for the remaining week of our vacation. Another illuminating example of spirit interacting on a physical level. Mike reminding his family that he was right there with us. Too much fun!
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Seven Years

     Yesterday marked seven years without his physical presence, but now that March 7th has passed, the nausea and deep fatigue that set in earlier this week is beginning to wane.
     The sun was kind enough to make an appearance for my weekly forest walk with the chocolate lab yesterday morning. Strolling along the creekside trail, taking it slow for a change, fully present to nature's healing elements. Recognizing and breathing in the early signs of spring, of renewal. Chirping birds, filtered sunshine, purling creek, and flowering bulbs bursting forth through the decay -  sights and sounds to nourish my soul.
     For dinner, as we have done on each anniversary, our family replicated the simple meal of chicken fajitas that Michael and Kelly had prepared for us the evening before they left for that fateful cabin weekend. A meaningful way for us to mark this day.
    With yesterday behind us, and spring just around the corner, we embrace the additional light and renewed life before us. 
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Gifts of Sweet Moments

     

     Within the past 48 hours, I have been blessed with having three different people spontaneously share reminders of Michael with me. Considering it has been 6 1/2 years since he died, it is not common for me to hear this many references to him within such a short time. I cherish every precious moment and memory of Michael that friends continue to share. Receiving three so close together is a windfall.
     Two days ago, a close friend of mine texted to say that she was preparing to leave for her highway drive to the Okanagan, where she would be celebrating Christmas with her family. She told me that after lifting her suitcase off the dining room chair, she had pushed the chair back under the table and found a feather lying on the floor under the table. She said that for her, it was a sign that "someone" was wishing her a safe ride up.
     Later that same day, during dinner with another long time friend, who happens to work at Contact Printing, I was told that the microwave at the shop had stopped working this week, and that she and two of her coworkers had remembered that Michael had bought it used off Craigslist for the staff kitchen, about a year before he died.
     Then yesterday, a good friend of Mike's sent me a photo via Messenger that he thought I might like to see. It showed my son during his grade 12 year, seated in a semicircle with five of his friends, celebrating someones birthday.
     Today, our family will gather at Boal Memorial to decorate the little Christmas tree. Despite the cold, rainy weather, we'll hang ornaments, light the candles, and sing some carols while sending loving thoughts to Mike and Kelly. And through it all, I will feel buoyed by the gifts of these sweet reminders of my son.
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Life and Death

       

     My husband and I recently attended a matinee of the animated movie Coco. No grandkids, just us two, in a theatre predominantly filled with young families. A Mexican friend (who had been our first homestay student nearly 25 years ago, and is now a father of five) had messaged me suggesting I would probably enjoy seeing Coco, knowing as he did of my interest in Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). We rarely correspond these days but I am so glad he took the time to recommend this movie -  it was a rich experience for all ages. We followed the journey of a young boy named Miguel, who crosses over a colourful marigold petal bridge with his dog, into the spirit world in search of a deceased relative. There he discovers the reasons behind the rituals of Dia de los Muertos and learns more about the ongoing connection between the living and the dead.
     At times during the movie, I thought about my son Michael existing in that vibrant spirit realm - heartwarming. I also considered a few of the tie-ins between the movie and my life. Miguel (which of course is Spanish for Michael) is what we often called our son when visiting Mexico as a family. Also, our homestay student's youngest sibling (who we subsequently got to know very well, along with his whole family) is also named Miguel, and I continue to refer to these brothers as my Mexican sons. As well, that first homestay student and I are both linked to the two days of Dia de los Muertos celebrations through our birthdays, his being November 1st and mine the 2nd. Lastly, having signed up for Spanish classes this fall, I was able to understand a few more of the movie's Spanish language references than I would have before.
     Down the road, I look forward to watching Coco with my grandchildren, as their curiosity often prompts discussions of what Uncle Mike's spirit might be doing and where he might be. And although our family does not observe Dia de los Muertos festivities, we celebrate the familial connections between the living and the dead, with as much joy and love as we can.
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Multi-Layered Spiritual Connection

      Seated in the living room lounge chair last Saturday morning, with my back to the floor-to-ceiling window, I was rereading notes I had made during the summer of 2015, after meeting up with a young person at their request. This individual had never met Michael but learned about the death of our son through a business connection. They contacted me thinking I might be interested to hear about an experience they had had involving Michael, and of course, I was. During our visit, the person described a vivid dream in which Michael had shared an incredible amount of very accurate information.
     The reason I now wanted to refresh my memory about the details the person had relayed to me was because I was planning to stop in at the Orchard Recovery Centre that afternoon. In the dream, Michael had referred to a "cool circle bench in a quiet space on the island" and the individual knew it was a connection to the Orchard. They subsequently found out that names of deceased clients were memorialized there as well. I had never heard of the bench nor the honouring of Orchard participants who had died. Curious to learn more, I had vowed to follow up the next time I visited Bowen Island with a car. Today would be my first visit back to the recovery centre since attending the weekly family education sessions during Michael's six week stay there in the spring of 2010.
     Now, after closing my notebook, my husband, who had been looking out the window while sitting on the sofa across from me said that while I had been reading, a hummingbird had approached my back, hovered behind me for a few moments, just over my shoulder, then flown off.  Simply perfect, because midway through those notes were the words, "Nocturnal hummingbirds much louder, bigger and more playful than usual. One hovered and seemed to stare at him for a while. Like a friend of his. Then flew away."
    After arriving at the Orchard early Saturday afternoon, I spoke to one of the counsellors who had worked with our family and found out that staff had likely added Michael's name to the memorial garden in 2011, but she strongly encouraged me to create a tag of my own. I was led to the outdoor space, then left there to experience it alone. The circle bench, unlike anything I have ever seen, was indeed located in a quiet space, designed with an elongated, low-angled back rest, allowing one's entire body to relax into it. When seated, one's gaze is drawn upwards, beyond the tops of the towering trees, into the sky beyond. A meditative memorial space in the woods. While writing a short message on the thin copper tag I had been handed, I noticed that there were two stuck together and that the pen was actually pressing the message onto both tags. So, as an added bonus, I was able to take one home, with the same engraved wording that now hangs in a majestic cedar.  A gift to remind me of this deeply meaningful, multi-layered experience of connection to Michael's spirit.

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Stopped In my Tracks

     
     Out for a jog on the back roads behind the cabin this morning. Running under mostly sunny skies and temperature in the low 20s, made it that much more special - a beautiful time for daydreaming.  About fifteen minutes in, the mark of a perfect heart upon the asphalt stopped me in my tracks. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that more specifically, it resembled a heart-shaped balloon, complete with string. Reminding me of the one I saw in my mind’s eye a few days after Michael died. Random hearts showing up always make me smile but this was the first time one showed up in this form. Oil stain, roadkill imprint or something more agreeable? Who knows how it was created? What I do know is that regardless of how it got there, the result was immense gratitude for seeing it.
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Observing the Signs

    

     After getting into my Volvo yesterday morning, I was buckling up just as Nat King Cole's voice came on over the CBC radio air waves and began singing "Smile".  The lyrics Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking immediately caught my attention since "Smile" was one of the three songs chosen to play during my son's memorial service. I had not heard it played over the radio since he died, and it had likely been years before that.   
     I was on my way to the BMW dealership just over the bridge. My husband and I would be picking up a brand new convertible to drive around in this long weekend. His was the highest bid for this Mike Gibson Memorial Golf tournament silent auction prize of a 3 day car rental. A longtime friend of Michael's had arranged for this donation through his place of work.
     I stopped at my husband's business en route and we then carried on to our destination in his car. After encountering the third yellow traffic light in a row (all unsynchronized), he commented on how strange it was that every traffic light was turning yellow just before we arrived at a controlled intersection, placing us in that questionable zone of whether to stop or drive on through.  I then told him about hearing the song "Smile" and soon made the connection that we were being cautioned to take it easy while driving around in that sporty car we were about to pick up. Close friend of Michael's, poignant song, and potential car accident - the synchronicity of these three signs was too obvious to miss.
      The yellow light phenomenon continued most of the way there. After picking up the rental car, we headed back along the highway, enjoying the ride with roof down and music playing, but observing the signs from the universe to take extra care on the roads this weekend in order to avoid a possible accident waiting to happen.
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Fun fact: When I began writing this post, the time happened to be 3:33, another reminder that angels are near.

Sun, Sand and Signs

     Home again, after a fabulous family vacation, where three generations were fortunate enough to play in the sun and sand. Much of the time, we were all hanging out together, but some mornings, my husband and I would head out for a long beach walk, just the two of us. During one such outing, three heartwarming signs appeared back-to-back, reminding us that Michael was with us on this family vacation, as well. 
     The first sign happened about an hour in. Walking a short distance behind my husband, I spotted a small, perfectly heart-shaped shell lying in the wet sand. As I picked it up, I noticed it was about the size of a dime, just as thin, and smooth to the touch. Polished by the waves, as precious as a jewel.
     With shell in hand, I rejoined my husband and after showing him my treasure, we continued on. A short distance later, I impulsively stopped and turned to face the ocean. Instantly, I noticed a tiny, white feather drifting down over the water. Soon, I spotted a second one, floating near the first. It was mesmerizing to watch these two feathers dance in the sunshine. I assumed I would see them fall into the ocean, but instead, they disappeared from my sight, into the backdrop of the bright blue sky. They became invisible to me. My husband, who had witnessed the scene as well, turned to me and asked what had prompted me to stop. I explained that I had simply stopped, for no particular reason. Lucky for me that I did.
     Then, carrying on with our walk, it wasn't long before we came upon a huge message written in the sand. It read: "I LOVE YOU DAD!" In case there had been any doubt, and that perhaps the first two signs had not been enough.
     All of our beach walks nourished our souls with the healing combination of bare feet in the sand, lapped by the waves, and warmed by the sun. However, the bonus of seeing these three signs during this particular walk boosted our souls into the stratosphere. Clearly, our entire family was present during this marvelous vacation.
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Open Circle

      Since early this year, I have been lacking inspiration to write, and for the past couple of weeks, experienced increasing anxiety regarding the upcoming 6th anniversary of my son's death. A few days ago, I realized that in order to bolster my link with the metaphysical realm, I needed to attend an Open Circle, something I had not done for well over a year. And so, I did.

     Seven of us, including the facilitator, began with a healing meditation - for the group, for friends and acquaintances, for the entire planet. This was followed by a lengthy guided visualization, and concluded with mediumship and sharing messages for each other. 

     To see and feel Michael's presence during my visualization was a huge source of comfort and support. He presented as his 25-year-old self, and was so "alive" with enthusiasm, smiling and emanating immense joy. It was obvious that he was as happy to see me as I was to see him. During our time together, it felt like a case of role reversal -  as if I were the child and he the parent, showing me the way. Later, when it came time to share our experiences with the group, I learned that he even showed up in someone else's visualization. 

     At the end of the evening, there were several wonderful messages for me from other circle participants, all of which served to strengthen the relationship with my son.

    Along with a renewed desire to write, those inspiring three hours of deep spiritual connection with Michael resulted in relieving some of my anxiety and filling my being with joy and contentment. So glad I followed through on my intuition to attend - a powerful evening with lasting impact.

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Pennies Become Pure Gold

     

     A couple of hours after writing last week's blog post, another beautiful sign from spirit appeared while I was shopping in a downtown department store. A very personable salesman helped me find a cosmetic item, and then, when it came time to pay, accompanied me to the nearby register, where he rang up the purchase. After handing him my money, his cash drawer opened. While making change, his expression became puzzled, and then he commented, "I wonder what this penny is doing here?" An understandable reaction since it has now been three and a half years since the Royal Canadian Mint stopped penny production and merchants began rounding prices up/down in order to omit pennies on cash purchases. I smiled and simply said, "Pennies from heaven".  He looked at me somewhat curiously so I told him that pennies occasionally appear in my life in connection with my son. With kindness, he acknowledged my comment, then returned his attention to the cash drawer where he noticed a second penny and asked if I wanted them both. Of course I did. He placed the coins in my hand, whereupon I promptly checked the dates - both 2011, the year Michael and Kelly died. Two pennies, two hours later, for those two ... moments such as these are pure gold. 

( PS - to top it off, over the following few days, I was notified of winning fabulous prizes from three separate contests! ) 

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