Love Letter Revealed

Is my memory failing me, or is it true, that what I stumbled upon today is something I never seen before?  It certainly feels like the latter. 

With a summer storm brewing over the lake and the cabin to myself for a few hours, I settled in for a comfortable afternoon of reading on the deck, in the company of two hummingbirds flitting about, mere inches from where I lay. After pausing to chat with them, I thought about how fulfilling it would be to write a blogpost, but I was lacking inspiration. About an hour later, I wandered inside and stopped in front the shelf which holds photos of Mike, Kelly, and the frozen lake message of "I ❤️ Kelly" (which had been created here during their last weekend together in early March 2011). As I stood there, breathing in the essence of these photos that have been prominently displayed in this spot for 12 years, I impulsively picked up the plastic frame of the lake photo and for some reason turned it around, where I noticed a small folded-up piece of paper tucked inside, with a ❤️ on the front. After sliding it out of the frame, I unfolded the paper and was shocked to see what I was holding. It was a drawing showing the outlines of their two hands overlapping, surrounded by hearts, and in the top right corner, the date 03/06/11. March 6th -  their last full day together on this earth.

The question remains - who had the honour of finding this love letter, and who had the beautiful idea of laying it to rest where I found it? Was this something I had put there for safekeeping many years ago but completely forgot about, or had someone else placed it there? In the end, it really doesn't matter, because today, regardless of how it got there, this love letter flooded me with a powerful dose of love energy, straight from their hearts to mine.                                                        

Worth It

In March of this year, exactly three years after my son died, a letter addressed to Michael from Consumer Protection BC, arrived at my home.  They were advising him that he had been charged illegal fees on some of his Instaloan transactions and could apply for a refund. Well, obviously that was not possible.  The amount of the claim was a modest $35.98, but on principle, I applied on his behalf.  After filling out and mailing in the paperwork, then following up with a couple of phone calls, and numerous emails, I finally received the cheque today, a few days shy of the three-and-a-half year anniversary of his passing. These out-of-the-blue reminders of his death are always emotionally challenging.  And ironically, given his nature, it is doubtful that Michael would have pursued the matter, were he still alive.  However, now I imagine him smiling supportively, those big blue eyes looking down at me, head angled and eyebrows raised, as he sees Canuck Place benefit from this process.

Shifting Moments

How quickly it still shifts from moment to moment.  Awaking Friday morning to a magnificent sunrise.  Contrasting greatly with the storm of the previous day.  Strolling in the sunshine along the rocky seashore. Chatting and laughing with a friend and her dog.  Grateful for the change of scenery and distractions.  Upon returning to the cottage, checking my computer.  Noticing a posting made minutes earlier.  A photo of Michael.  Standing beside the ocean, arms stretched out wide. Taken days before he died.  One I have seen before.  Now catching me completely off guard.   This scene a perfect match to the one I had just been experiencing.  A second uploaded image showing a necklace his aunt had created  for herself in his memory.   Incorporating a heart and a star.  This, my first glimpse of it.  Both pictures instantly transporting me from a sense of peace and lightness to one of heart piercing sadness. Tears falling.  Breathing through it.  Then moving on with the day. Enjoying an afternoon with more laughter and conversation.  A short drive and ferry ride later, arriving home with a sense of contentment. Noticing the stack of unopened mail.  Tearing open a large envelope addressed to me.  Reading the enclosed letter from one of Michael's and Kelly's high school teachers.  One who is also living in this community. Sharing her condolences, as well as some memories.  Resulting in further emotions to process.  More tears.  In both cases, greatly appreciating that others continue to think about him.  Making the effort to share that.   As difficult as it is being in the feelings these pictures and words evoke, I am thankful for the communication.  Helping me feel connected and supported.  This ongoing roller-coaster ride.