After the death of my husband, Don, I found myself adrift in my spiritual life. My religious beliefs from childhood offered some comfort but I wanted more. I wanted to forge a relationship with my husband that was eternal. I was drawn to those friends who told me of messages they were receiving from their deceased beloved ones.
One friend, a recent widow, showed me a photo of her patio. She was crying as she explained today would have been their 40th anniversary. There was a tiny crack in one of the cement squares; a bouquet of wild flowers had sprouted overnight in that crack. She felt as though her husband was sending her a sign of his undying love.
I read the book Signs that describes so many ways our loved ones continue to communicate. I began to notice signs. My husband and I loved Idyllwild, in the hills above Hemet. We were entranced with the baby lizards that ran around that tree studded area. Lizards became special to us.
The last year of my husband’s life he was in a care facility. The first day he arrived, we sat together on the front porch and looked out at the desert plants. Then we saw them — lots of little lizards. My husband smiled and our eyes met, his face more alive than in months.
After his death, on the unveiling of the headstone a lizard scooted by and landed on top of my husband’s name where it stayed for several seconds. My young granddaughter shouted: “Look, that’s Grandpa!” I did not believe or want that but understood her reaction. I let myself feel the wonder of it all.
Through the years friends and clients have described their visitation dreams where they felt reunited with their loved ones. I longed for that experience. One night it happened. Don came to me in a dream and it felt real. We were together again for a magical few moments. I awoke in confusion and felt compelled to write about it:
The Visitation
Wonder if it is true that dreams can be seeded
That I could plant intention in the soil of the dreamworld
Asking a request of the darkness
A visit from him
The one — my only love
For almost six decades
He is there somewhere
Floating in the galaxy
How hard would it be to pay me a small visit
I ask the universe to grant my request
Every night, pleading, wishing, wanting
My unconscious only yielding ordinary dreams
Fuel for daytime analysis
He doesn’t come
Stubbornness never his endearing quality
Then one night —
In the midst of a simple dream
He wandered in
I was walking around our living room
Not in the apartment where I dwell alone
In our house, that cottage we inhabited for 50 years
Raised children
Watched the roses entwine with thorns
There we were
Slowly moving toward each other
Uneventful
Until he slammed into my consciousness
He came to me, not as a ship passing in the night
But as a beloved, embracing me, sweet, sensuous
It can’t be him
He’s dead.
I reach out to touch him
I feel the hairs on that arm I memorized long ago
Warm to my touch
He is with me.
I talk to him.
He listens but does not respond
His eyes speak.
I call my daughter while still in dreamtime
Ask her to bear witness
Beg him to talk to her
I need to know this is real
He looks so sad as he takes the phone.
Tries to speak
All that emerges are sound struggles
Vocalizations from another realm
Is this proof he is here
Or am I a new-age fool
I awake while still lost in the dream
Was it a dream
I don’t know
I don’t know becomes my spiritual mantra
As the sun of morning gently awakens me into another day without him.
I hope for you that you have a spiritual base that brings you comfort, passion, purpose — that keeps you open to the wonders of life as well the deep mysteries that will never have definitive answers — a belief system with compassion and room for expansion. My core religious beliefs have not changed but what has changed is my relationship to the unknown. I am open to explore the mysteries of life, death and beyond. This exploration is bringing me peace and comfort. I could not hope for more.