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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Mountain Angel

The wide open Powerline trail along the base of Grouse Mountain is a favourite of mine.  While walking in the sunshine with my husband there this morning, I made a startling connection.  Last Sunday morning, he and I had walked along this same popular trail.  That day, we had ventured a little further than usual, and then, my husband suggested we return to the car via a narrow, less travelled route through the forest, one we had never taken.  Since we were without any safety provisions, I replied I wasn't interested in taking the chance of getting lost without any gear.  I then announced, "That's all we need is for Tim Jones to have to come and find us." Tim Jones, North Shore Search and Rescue leader, as well as high school classmate of ours.  Well, we turned around and headed back along the main trail.  Later, we found out that Tim had died that evening while walking down the trail of a neighbouring mountain.  Within hours of me pronouncing those words, ones I had never before spoken, Tim, a hero in the truest sense of the word, was gone.  Uncanny.  RIP Tim, our mountain angel.

Grave Secret

While awaiting a recent flight home.  Standing in line at airport security, after snaking back and forth between the numerous banded posts.  Noticing three men wind their way towards me.  Two in their late eighties, along with one of middle age.  Overhearing snippets of their conversation, as they pass by.  Learning two are father and son. Gleaning all three to be churchgoers.  The younger one mentioning how wonderful it is that he lives so close to his place of worship.  They then moving away from me, along the length of the line, only to return again. This time, in a grave voice, one of the older men revealing, "I kept it a secret until he died."  Arriving at the front of the line, I get waved up to place personal items on the conveyor belt.  Leaving the men behind, my mind does somersaults.  Who was it?  What was their relationship?  Was it church related?  Why did he feel it needed to be kept secret?  Were there unintended consequences?  What price did he pay?  I will never know the circumstances of this particular situation. My heart hoping he is at peace with it now.

Ten Months or Last Year

Tomorrow marks ten months since the accident.  Observing how different it feels to state that it happened last year.  To say that my son died last year.  A simple word substitution causing such a pronounced shift in perspective.  Discussing it in terms of 'months' indicating that the event occurred recently.  Very much reflecting the way it still feels. The words 'last year' implying it transpired some time ago.  Noting reluctance on my part to describe it this way.  Due to the assumption of less intense emotional attachment perhaps.  Not ready for that yet.  Still perceiving that it happened such a short time ago.  That curious concept of time coming into play once again.  The stark reality is that the event happened.  The language used when referring to it does not alter the actual incident.  What is does is affect and reflect my reaction to it.  Two separate issues.  One I can choose to change, the other I cannot.