Angling In

      A couple of weeks ago, my brother's new life partner texted me, asking for a couple of pictures to be included in the family photo gallery she's creating in their new home. She suggested the family picture be the one taken at Mike's best friend's wedding last year and left it up to me to select a favourite photo of my son. After much deliberation, I chose one showing him smiling ear to ear, taken during one of his many fishing excursions with my brother. He loved his Uncle Walt and the joy of this shared moment on the river is palpable. 
     I ordered a large print of each photo and they arrived at my place two days ago. Gazing at the pictures, I considered whether to mail them to their house or wait until we might next see each other. Less than a minute later, I received a message from my brother inviting my husband and I to go sturgeon fishing with the two of them this weekend. I have only been sturgeon fishing twice, the last time was in 2009, during which this photo was taken - guided by my brother, the day included my husband and all my children, along with their best friends. Great memories! With the bonus of sunshine in the forecast, I am really looking forward to tomorrow's outing, and undoubtedly, Mike will be angling in on our experience. 
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Spirits not Dampened, Despite it Raining on our Parade

     

     I had never taken in our city's Santa Claus parade, now in its twelfth year, but a few days ago, decided it was something I wanted to experience, so despite the soggy forecast, we headed over town yesterday afternoon - my husband, granddaughter and I. Claiming a small strip along the curb with our folded picnic blanket, we sat huddled together drinking hot chocolate under a shared umbrella for over an hour. The unrelenting rain did not dampen the lively energy of the participants or spectators. Waving and singing along, we enjoyed a steady stream of marching bands, colourfully costumed dancers, elaborate floats, and festively decorated horses. After the parade wrapped up with Santa gliding by on his sleigh, we packed up our blanket and strolled back up the sidewalk hand-in-hand with wet bums, rosy cheeks and filled hearts, all agreeing it had been a wonderful outing. Perhaps next year, our grandson can forgo his nap and snuggle in with us to experience it too.
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Three Years In

Hi Michael,
   Mom here. Three years in, and it's still so hard living with this experience of a mother losing a child. No doubt there have been difficult circumstances in previous lives as well, but still, this is a tough one. I miss you so much.

   How are you doing? Are you considering coming back soon or do you need more time? I have no idea what the space between lives looks like. Maybe you'll still be there when I return.

   Thank you for continuing to stay close and helping me see the signs. The need to know you are near is still strong. I know you were watching earlier this week while I played some of your favourite music, loudly. A playlist compiled by your friends, largely made up of songs I had not heard before your death. I felt deeply connected to you while listening to the lyrics, which had spoken to you, and were now speaking to me. And once my tears had given way to dancing, I could see you smiling, and dancing too.
Love Mom ♥ 

I Still Call Bullshit

This morning, while placing flowers at the memorial plaque engraved with my son's birth and death dates, the voice in my head is still calling bullshit.  On a soul level, I understand Michael's passing, however, as his mother, I doubt if it will ever make sense.  The accident happened two and a half years ago today.  It might as well be two and a half months ago, since time has done little, if anything, to alter my day-to-day reality with respect to this intense loss.  How could it?  He is gone. He will never again give me a hug, never again call me on the phone, never again sit down to a family meal.  Regardless of what is happening in my day, experiencing joy or sadness or anything in-between, this companion called grief is with me, always.  I would not have anticipated this is how it would be, but as with any profound life experience, you don't know until you are in it.

A Mother Hen Experience

Low energy weekend.  Emotionally and physically.  Acutely missing my son.  Making every effort to pull myself up.  Swim at the pool.  Long meditation.  Out for a run.  All with little success.  Suddenly, the image of a mother hen flashing through my mind.  Identifying with her immediately.  Proud of her baby chicks.  Happy to see them flourishing, exploring their environment, making their own way.  Then finding herself momentarily faltering.  Keenly feeling that empty space left behind by the one now gone.  Experiencing an overwhelming desire to gather in the ones remaining.  Wanting to hold them close.  Needing the reassurance of that motherly connection.  Enlisting help from my daughters.  Both thankfully able to accommodate.  One having coffee with me,  the other coming over to play cards.  Helping to soothe this mother's heart.

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.

Energizing Experience

In conversation with an old acquaintance recently.  A teacher whose daughter passed a few years ago.  Describing the feeling he gets when connecting to her spirit.  Tingling that begins along the edges of his arms.  Then rapidly spreading from there.  Quite familiar with this sign myself.  Feeling charged.  Often experiencing the sensation when making a connection with my son.   During tarot readings over the years as well.  A physical indicator that contact has been made.  In my case, often accompanied by watery eyes.  Possibly due to the change in energetic frequency.  Raising ours while they lower theirs.  Enabling us to meet somewhere in-between.  Always an energizing and uplifting experience.

Perfect Morning Together

This morning, a young autistic man and I will walk the mountain side trail together.  I do not know him well but once a week we spend a few hours in each other's company, rain or shine.  He seems to enjoy our excursions which he communicates to me with his 'thumbs up' gesture.  We often include Gulliver on these walks and the three of us wander along each enjoying the outing at our own pace. My experience, his experience, and the dog's experience are all occurring in the same location at the same time. However, each of us processes it uniquely, with no one way having more value than the others.  Each one of us is having our own perfect morning together!

The Orchard Experience

I was curious.  Had I known my son as well as I thought I did? As I lay on his bed reading through the notes from his time at The Orchard treatment centre, I found myself feeling relieved that there were no huge surprises.  The new information that I did learn left me feeling sad, but not shocked.  After he died ten weeks ago, one of my first thoughts was gratitude that he had found the courage and strength to commit to that program last year.  By doing so, he gave himself and our family the gift of rebuilding relationships.  We were able to have the difficult conversations.  Without that shared experience, this new reality would feel vastly different.  As it is, he left knowing how much I loved him, and I am left knowing he loved me.  That goes a long way.