Conflicted

Collecting ideas about how to best mark the one year anniversary next week.  The obvious visit to Boal Memorial.  Then gathering here at home with his sisters and brothers-in-law for mutual emotional support.  Relighting the gold candles used at his service.  Watching family videos.  Perhaps working on that unfinished puzzle Michael and Kelly had started, still lingering under the chair.  For dinner, ordering Chinese or preparing chicken fajitas.  The latter option reflecting the meal they created for us the day before leaving for their last cabin weekend.  Later, possibly playing a game together.   All simple but meaningful activities.  Connecting us to memories and the energy of our son and brother.  However, behind all this planning, certainly feeling conflicted.  On the one hand, focusing on honouring how much he meant to us and how deeply he is missed.  On the other, desperately wishing he were physically here instead. 

Intriguing Obituaries

Browsing through the obituaries in the paper this morning.  Something I have done for years.  True to that Scorpio trait of being intrigued by death.  Noting the words chosen when condensing a life into a few sentences.  Reading between the lines.  Observing which aspects of a person's lifetime are included and considering those which might purposefully be omitted.  Paying attention to their ages.  A few living mere hours, some over one hundred years.  Most falling somewhere in-between.  Wondering about those indicating no service by request. Recognizing that the majority of obituaries are written by loved ones, a number by care facilities, and on occasion, by the individual themselves.  An exercise my son had undertaken less than a year before he died.  Unbeknownst to his family.  To facilitate gaining clarity for himself.  Sealing it in an envelope.  One of his sisters discovering it within days of his passing.  His father reading it aloud at his funeral. Imparting a clear sense of what was in Michael's heart and what he aspired to be remembered for.  Ending with, "You will be greatly missed!"  Indeed, he certainly is.

Reassuring Experience

Michael coming through to visit his sisters.  Dog by his side, at the ISA last night.  Sharing specific and detailed messages with his energy. Including a shout-out to his dad as well.  Leaving no doubt as to the identity of this, their brother's, spirit.  Another reassuring experience demonstrating the continued existence of beings.  Clearly remaining connected to each other.

Michael Makes an Appearance

Showing himself last night.  For the first time, appearing to me in a dream.  Wherein a dozen of his friends were gathering on the grass in front of our home.  Male and female.  Soon following me inside. Making their way into the living room.  Joining hands to form a circle. Supporting each other.  Me, proceeding into the kitchen alone.  Seeing my son standing there.  Wearing jeans and a long sleeved pale pink shirt.  Looking just as he had before he passed.  My mind instantly processing that his friends were unable to see him.  Then picking up on his thoughts.  Sensing the pride he was feeling for all of them helping each other through this ordeal.  Such a powerful dream leaving me deeply moved.  This morning, speaking to one of his sisters.  She describing her evening at the townhouse last night.  Baking banana bread while listening to songs that reminded her of Mike.  Later, together with her husband in the living room, watching the slide show that had played at his service.  Suddenly distracted by an intense white ball of light hovering in the kitchen.  The size of a grapefruit.  Seconds later, seeing it explode, filling the entire room with a brilliant flash of light. Then disappearing.  Same evening.  Same rooms involved.  Two completely different events.  Very likely related.  Both of us feeling connected and thankful today.  

Living with Death

Parents grieving the death of a child.  Sisters mourning the loss of their brother.  Friends deeply missing one of their own.  This morning's paper filled with stories mirroring ours.  Human beings dealing with these inescapable human experiences, each in their own way.  Learning how to live with death.  Something asked of each one of us the moment we chose to be born.