Not alone
It has been my extreme good fortune to be the recipient of many signs and a handful of visitations from my sweetie since he passed, the first coming within hours of my finding out about his passing, the last within the last hour, and so many in between that I can scarcely count them. The day he died I felt like a vault door had been closed between us, that we’d been in the middle of a conversation and he’d been taken away and I was lost. So lost, for a long time. But we promised each other that whoever went first would try to let the other one know if we’d been wrong about the whole afterlife thing. And he has made mighty efforts to reach me. He has been the greatest balm to my wounded heart, beyond all others. It only stands to reason; the pain of being without him could only be eased by him. Eased, but not erased. I don’t expect that.
Not everyone believes in signs, or sees them. I understand that, and that’s their right. But truth is something that is felt, and not so much explained. Given how much healing I have gained from knowing he was still out there, that I was not entirely left alone (all outward appearances to the contrary), that he still loved me, I can only think that those who do not receive, or do not think they receive, such signs must hurt all the more, still staring at that thick, cold steel vault door. It’s the most awful feeling in the world, that feeling of being cut off from those we love the most, and I hope that something happens for them that they feel a spark of hope that not even death can stop love, in either direction. I write those moments down in my journal, in gratitude and to return to in my mind when I am feeling low and lonely.
Despite all these signs, it’s been very easy to fall into doubt, to question it, to ask myself if I’m fooling myself, despite the fact that I’ve had validation from numerous quarters. I am ever on the lookout for further validation, and I have gotten it, though not always on the timetable and in the manner I wished. And when I’ve been disappointed, my faith has most assuredly been shaken. But the reminders keep coming.
This past Sunday was my 36th birthday, my 2nd without him here. I’d asked him for a dream of him as a birthday present. I’ve asked him many, many times to come to me in my dreams, but he comes according to his timetable, not mine. If I dreamed about him as often as I wanted to, I’d dream of him every single night. I don’t. But I got my dream, and more. My dear, sweet A pulled out all the stops and made it clear to me beyond question that he was here, and that he loves me. I didn’t realize how profound the effect of the signs was this weekend until I realized that the doubt had somehow evaporated. Maybe just for now, maybe forever. I cannot say. But I knew in my heart without question that I am loved and he is with me, and I’m a pretty lucky girl despite everything. I never imagined that I’d hear regularly from someone who had died. Yeah, I’d rather have an e-mail, but I’m not about to look a gift miracle in the mouth. And a miracle is what it is. I know that.
I miss him constantly, and the last couple of weeks have been tough, but since this weekend, the missing him has been more wistful than painful. I take nothing for granted now, least of all any prediction of the duration of my current emotional status. But for this moment, my heart feels calm, not pained. I feel a bit of peace. Until this happened to me, I had no idea how precious and sweet a single moment of peace could be. I will savor it as long as it lasts.