Timely Death Cafe

When I first heard about Death Cafes on a radio program this past summer, I was intrigued.  Year-round events where strangers meet to discuss this weighty subject over tea and cake.  Over the past few years, these get-togethers have been gaining momentum worldwide.  I am looking forward to my introductory experience with a Death Cafe tomorrow, which is also day one of a two day festival known as Day of the Dead. In cultures where this holiday is recognized, November 1st is dedicated to joyfully celebrating with the souls of children who have passed.  The following day is when deceased adults are welcomed back to join the living in celebrations of life.  Last week, I realized that my book launch happens to fall on the second day of that festival.  Before my son's death, I had given the holiday little thought, but two years ago, during that first November without him, I imagined how supportive it would be to be immersed in a culture that celebrates this.  Then last year, by chance, I was in Sedona for their Day of the Dead festivities.  This year, through serendipity, I again have both days covered - the first will be spent expanding my mind, the second, celebrating a creation born out of death.   

Another Precious Penny

On Monday February 11th, my husband and I began preparing for our upcoming move.  It was no surprise that the area I found the most difficult to pack up was Michael's room.  Thankfully, only a few of his personal items remained (most of them had been dealt within weeks of his passing), but pulling his books off the shelf and removing his suit from the predominantly empty armoire was not easy.  Tackling this room on our province's first ever "Family Day" holiday did not help. That emotionally loaded label served to intensify my melancholy state. Once the packing of the room was done, my husband began disassembling the armoire, which was situated in a corner, directly against the wall.  With only a couple of inches of clearance between the ceiling and the top of that cabinet, dismantling was required in order to fit through the door.  When he was almost finished, he called me over to help.  As I picked up the base of the armoire, I could not believe my eyes. Lying on the floor was a lone penny.  There was nothing else to be found under, behind, or beside the armoire - no old socks, garbage, or even other coins.  Just one penny.  The back of the armoire was solid wood, as were the top, bottom and side panels - nothing could have accidentally fallen through from the drawers or shelves inside.  So, how did that penny get there?  I have no idea, but based on previous penny encounters, I know who was involved.  Sensing how difficult the day was for me, Michael's spirit made sure to send a sign of support.  After I relayed the incident to my younger daughter, I chuckled as she half-jokingly wondered aloud if the occurrence of future episodes such as this might be affected -  as of Monday February 4th, Canadian pennies are no longer officially in circulation.  We'll see.