Multi-Layered Spiritual Connection

      Seated in the living room lounge chair last Saturday morning, with my back to the floor-to-ceiling window, I was rereading notes I had made during the summer of 2015, after meeting up with a young person at their request. This individual had never met Michael but learned about the death of our son through a business connection. They contacted me thinking I might be interested to hear about an experience they had had involving Michael, and of course, I was. During our visit, the person described a vivid dream in which Michael had shared an incredible amount of very accurate information.
     The reason I now wanted to refresh my memory about the details the person had relayed to me was because I was planning to stop in at the Orchard Recovery Centre that afternoon. In the dream, Michael had referred to a "cool circle bench in a quiet space on the island" and the individual knew it was a connection to the Orchard. They subsequently found out that names of deceased clients were memorialized there as well. I had never heard of the bench nor the honouring of Orchard participants who had died. Curious to learn more, I had vowed to follow up the next time I visited Bowen Island with a car. Today would be my first visit back to the recovery centre since attending the weekly family education sessions during Michael's six week stay there in the spring of 2010.
     Now, after closing my notebook, my husband, who had been looking out the window while sitting on the sofa across from me said that while I had been reading, a hummingbird had approached my back, hovered behind me for a few moments, just over my shoulder, then flown off.  Simply perfect, because midway through those notes were the words, "Nocturnal hummingbirds much louder, bigger and more playful than usual. One hovered and seemed to stare at him for a while. Like a friend of his. Then flew away."
    After arriving at the Orchard early Saturday afternoon, I spoke to one of the counsellors who had worked with our family and found out that staff had likely added Michael's name to the memorial garden in 2011, but she strongly encouraged me to create a tag of my own. I was led to the outdoor space, then left there to experience it alone. The circle bench, unlike anything I have ever seen, was indeed located in a quiet space, designed with an elongated, low-angled back rest, allowing one's entire body to relax into it. When seated, one's gaze is drawn upwards, beyond the tops of the towering trees, into the sky beyond. A meditative memorial space in the woods. While writing a short message on the thin copper tag I had been handed, I noticed that there were two stuck together and that the pen was actually pressing the message onto both tags. So, as an added bonus, I was able to take one home, with the same engraved wording that now hangs in a majestic cedar.  A gift to remind me of this deeply meaningful, multi-layered experience of connection to Michael's spirit.

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No Ordinary Weekend

     









     A recent sunny Whistler weekend getaway was filled with incredible moments of synchronicity. The only pre-planned part of the trip was doing tarot readings at a mountaintop event, on the Friday evening. My husband and I had decided to make a weekend of it, booking in at the RV park. With so much to offer, the location supported an effortless flow between being active (biking the valley trail, hiking around Lost Lake, walking to the village) and enjoying restful pastimes (impromptu riverside picnic, brunch on a lakeside patio, Scrabble in the shade). 
     Saturday evening, during an after-dinner stroll through the village, I heard my name called and turned to see one of my cousins seated with someone on a nearby restaurant patio. He lives a few hours away, and we had not seen each other for three years. After a round of hugs and getting introduced to his girlfriend, we took them up on their offer to join them for a drink. We discovered that just minutes before we were spotted, a table had been freed up on the patio, and his girlfriend had requested they move out there, instead of remaining at their inside table. They had arrived at the resort earlier that evening and were leaving shortly after noon the next day. Small window of time to run into them. And as it turned out, Sunday morning our paths crossed again - while leaving the farmer's market, we bumped into them just as they were heading over to check it out. Another short conversation and more hugs.
     Sunday afternoon, my husband and I decided to wander down to one of several coffee shops in the area. Being the 7th of the month, I was feeling a little melancholy, with Michael in my thoughts even more than usual. It would be one of the very rare times when I would not be taking flowers to Boal Memorial on this date. My husband had been walking a few steps ahead of me and was waiting on a bench near the cafe. Sitting down beside, I was about to ask him what he'd like to order when I noticed a memorial plaque on the backrest, and reading the inscription, realized it was in honour of a young man who had lived in Whistler, and died just over a year ago, at age twenty-four. Through a mutual friend, I met his mother once, shortly after her son's death, and we had shared our experiences regarding the deaths of our sons, including reference to the metaphysical realm. What were the chances? Of all the seating available in Whistler, this was the ideal place for us to be on this day. 
     After coffee, it was time to head home. En route, we stopped in Squamish to purchase some bike accessories, and as I was leaving that particular aisle, I thought about our friends who live there, a couple we haven't seen for a few months due to his out-of-province work commitments. I fleetingly wondered what the chances were of running into them here in this big box store but promptly dismissed the notion since it was late Sunday afternoon and thought that if they had needed any items here, they would probably have done so earlier in the day. Then seconds later, as I turned the corner, there they were, smack dab in the middle of the store, and they ended up inviting us up to their place for a short visit. They too happen to live with the loss of a twenty-five year old son. Perfect timing.
     An astounding run of closely timed, out-of-the-blue experiences ... the Universe certainly does know how to make a great impression!
www.diaryofanintuitive.com
Photo credit: www.whistler.com

Sign of the Season

While preparing for our annual tree-decorating event at Boal Memorial, I paused by the front window this morning and gazed out over the frost-covered lawn.  Dry days, with unusually cold temperatures, has resulted in thick frost, creating an illusion of snow.  I stood there, the intense duality within me threatening to overwhelm - so much to be grateful for existing alongside deep sadness due to loss.  While breathing slowly and deeply into the scene before me, I became aware of one tiny snowflake drifting down.  Any smaller, and it would have been invisible to the naked eye.  A few moments later, another one appeared, followed by a third some seconds after that.  This delicate show continued for a short time - the tiniest of snowflakes floating down one by one, all well spaced apart.  And then, the display was over.  The first snowflakes of the year.  So subtle.  Easily overlooked, without any accumulation. Their appearance, however, was not lost on me.  On this significant day, it was not feathers that made me smile, but rather, a beautiful sign of the season. 

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 Wonderful World

I had not attended a yoga class for some time, opting to practice poses at home instead.  Finally, this afternoon, I got myself to a Yin class, and I am so glad I did.  Another cold and dreary week had taken its toll on me, both physically and emotionally, and I knew that getting out to a studio would help improve my energy level and disposition - it always does.  Midway through the class, while lying in a meditative state in the deep hip-opening Swan pose, I began sending pink energy out into the room.  Moments later, in my mind's eye, I saw yellow and orange energy waves join in.  The three colours formed a mini rainbow, which was pulsating this beautiful loving energy throughout the space.  The background music thus far had been made up of the soothing instrumentals and calm melodic chantings typically heard during such classes.  Suddenly, while still holding this difficult and uncomfortable pose, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World" began playing over the speakers. It took but a second to put two and two together.  This song, referencing colours of the rainbow and the beauty in the world, was one of the three that played during Michael's memorial service.  Now, love and gratitude washed through me and infused my entire being.  I am fairly certain that during the thirty plus years of attending yoga classes in various studios, I have not once heard this song play.  When the song ended, the music reverted to instrumentals and chanting, but for the balance of the class, then into the evening, the deep feelings of love and gratitude remained.  What a wonderful world.

Gathering at the Tree

This coming Sunday.  Our daughters, son-in-laws, my husband and I meeting up.  Decorating a mini Christmas tree together.  Starting this annual tradition at Oma's graveside ten Christmases ago.  Symbolically sharing the holidays with someone we loved.  Lighting candles clipped to the branches.  Singing German carols.  Recounting memories. Moving the occasion to Boal Memorial this year.  Using the same tree Michael helped decorate last December.  Adding some new ornaments for our brother and son.  Kelly and Diesel too.  Knowing my mother will happily meet us there.  All gathering together. 

Glorious Day

Taking our time.  Enjoying a magnificent fall drive to the cabin. Sunshine highlighting the vibrant colours along the way.  Stopping for lunch in Hope rather than just driving through.  Then on to Manning Park.  Bundling up for a peaceful walk around one of the many lakes.   Inhaling the crisp mountain air.  Light dusting of snow underfoot. Spotting several chipmunks and birds going about their day.  Hearing the powerful whoosh of a bald eagle's wings overhead.  Stopping briefly at the memorial just because.  Breathing through the emotions. Arriving at our destination shortly before dusk.  Witnessing a family of deer grazing along the shore.  All in all, a glorious day.

Roller-Coaster Ride

Saturday afternoon.  Feeling such contentment after a long walk on the back roads.  Preparing a lunch to enjoy on the beach.  Glancing out the window.  Seeing my husband hunched over the workbench below.  The scene before me causing my heart to leap up into my throat.  Saw in hand.  Two long, thin pieces of wood beside him.  Building a cross.  To commemorate the accident site.  The vulnerability of this moment hitting me hard.  Knowing a father never imagines this would ever be asked of him.  A spur of the moment decision for him to start this project now.  The concept of a memorial for that spot discussed but not finalized.  Together agreeing to explore options for a suitable plaque before continuing on.  A short time later, both able to savour our meal and the remainder of the day.  A wild and crazy roller-coaster ride indeed.