Since Laura passed I have been begging for some sign from
her to let me know some things.
Are you still with me? Are you happy where you are? Can
you see Fiona growing up from your
new home? Do you love me still?
Crazy, I know.
When we depart this world, those of us who are left behind
can only hold on to beliefs of where we go when we pass, what we can see from
our new home, etc.
Religion teaches us that there is a beautiful place that
awaits us after we pass.
Science teaches us that life is an energy force, and energy
cannot die – it only transforms.
Combining the two, I believe that there is a place where our
life force goes after we leave the earthly realm.
Religion says that it’s called heaven, where we get to see
long departed loved ones and the streets are paved with gold, and there’s no
pain or suffering or tears. This would (or will) be a great place to reside.
Some science says that there is likely a parallel dimension
that we trans-morph into, a world exactly like our own, with some subtle and
some not so subtle differences.
Of course, no one has come from beyond to tell us which is
which and what is real.
After daughter Ruth E. passed, the second night of trying to
sleep, I had a most amazing and very real dream. I was awakened in the early
morning hours by Ruth E.’s voice whispering in my ear. I turned over in my bed
and opened my eyes and she was standing over me, big smile on her face, telling
me “I’m home”. It was as if she were coming home from a date later than
expected and was just letting me know that she was home and safe. As she turned
and walked away from the bed I said “Wait – where have you been?”. She looked
over her shoulder at me and said, in a way that only Ruth E. could say it,
“Duh”. Then she laughed and kept on walking down the hall.
The dream was so real and so vivid that I immediately woke
Laura up and told her about it. We both cried ourselves back to sleep that
morning, and we never spoke of it to each other again.
It’s now early March 2017. I’m still reeling over the death
of my beloved Laura, who left just
over three months earlier. I force myself out of bed on a Friday morning, off
work and making plans for the day – laundry, dishes, scrubbing the sink, etc.
My phone rings.
A little about the caller.
Jason Summers is a good friend, a super talented musician, a
great father to his girls and all around great man. We met him through Michael
as they were (and still are) in various bands together. Since meeting Jason, we
started seeing him as another son. He was there through some of the worst times
in our lives, was a pallbearer for Ruth E. and continues to offer love and
support to our family, of which, like it or not, he is a part of.
I answered the phone that Friday morning with the fear that
something may have happened to him or his family as Jason never calls that
early in the morning.
Jason starts by apologizing for calling so early but he had
to tell me about a dream that he had the night before. Seems that the dream was
so real that it woke him at 5am and he couldn’t get it off his mind.
He dreamed that he was in his old apartment back in his
hometown of Pittsburgh, walking out the front door. He looked across the street
and saw Laura standing there – holding a red balloon. She had that large Laura
smile on her face and he motioned for her to cross the street. She gave him the
‘mom’ look of ‘hell no, you cross the street to me’. Jason added “you know, just like Laura would”.
Jason crossed the street and she met him with a big hug.
“What are you doing here?”, Jason asked.
Laura answered “Waiting on Larry to pick me up. We meet here
at this time every day” Then, he drops me back off here as I have to go one
way and he has to go another. But we meet here every day, same time”
Jason says that in the dream he turns and sees me driving
down the street. I pull over and Laura, red balloon still in hand, gets into
the car. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and turns back to Jason and says
“everything’s going to be alright”. Then we drive away.
He woke up. He tells me over the phone that it was so real
that he couldn’t go back to sleep. He wanted to call me and tell me then but
was unsure how I would take hearing about the dream.
He says that it's the most vivid dream that he's ever had and that it was beautiful!
“She still loves you Larry”, Jason says through tears.
“Jason – you have just changed the entire trajectory of my
day”, I told him.
We talked for a minute more and then I started scrubbing the
sink. I cried, and scrubbed for almost an hour. Cleanest that sink has ever
been, I did most of the rinsing with tears. Forget about all the other chores - I spent the rest of my time with her photos, with a grocery list that she had started, with emails that she had sent to me. And I grieved long and hard that day.
She had let me know that she was alright and that she still
loved me. She had communicated this through Jason, a guy that called her his
second mom and that she loved as a son. She had spoken through Jason as Ruth E.
had spoken through me.
I choose to believe this. It makes me feel so much better.
And while I loved him as a son before that phone call, I’ll
never forget what that man did for me that day.
He delivered some much-needed answers.
And that certainly helps me along with this grieving process
and lets me know that there is a place where we all go after we die.
1 comment:
A few months before JoAnn died, I had a very intense dream. It was about the time that we realized that Chemo, stem cell replacement and all the rest wasn't going to stop the cancer. In the dream, JoAnn and I were arguing - I'm not sure about what - but in the dream I was quite upset. It was then that my father arrived. He walked over to me and said, calmly, almost sweetly, "it's going to be all right". Then I woke up.
I've come to believe that the argument was over the fact that JoAnn would soon be leaving and my daddy, always rational, was there to comfort me and to assure me that it wasn't the end. I think Jason's dream is the same.
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