((((((HUGS TO ALL)))))) ~
Every May for 11 years, I relive the last month of Michael’s Earthly life. Beginning with Mother’s Day, when he was whisked away in an ambulance to ER, where he coded and was intubated, to Memorial Day, when he received his wings. And everything, which happened in between.
Although we throw a thin veil over our memories, some remain vivid. I can recall it all. I realize now that I always will. I don’t want to forget it or avoid it. Those were my last days with my son. They are precious memories, albeit excruciatingly painful.
What has changed during this past decade (plus one) is my acceptance of our physical separation. That acceptance is exceptionally easier for me, because Michael continuously lets me know that his spirit is still quite present.
This year on Mother’s Day, Michael sent me a perfect rose, the first bloom of the year on our Peace rose. Later in the day, he sent an adult red tail hawk to drink and bathe in Michael’s waterfall pond. I missed seeing the hawk, but Jim watched him, then found me to tell me about the hawk, just as it flew away. The rose for me, the hawk for Jim. Perfect. The potted day lilies in Michael’s garden are blooming abundantly. Every day new ones appear. They haven’t produced like that for several years.
The hawk visited again today, and this time I noticed it first. Jim and I watched as the majestic bird drank and bathed in Michael’s pond. This isn’t something we see regularly. These moments are gifted to us during those times, when our grief for Michael is heightened by a special occasion or holiday. He finds a dramatic way to tell us that he is still near.
Skeptics might rightly question the significance of these signs, but in the last 11 years, Michael has revealed to us his presence in so many undeniable ways that we’ve become accustomed to his message carriers. And to those, who might scoff ~ I simply know what I know, what I’ve experienced, what Jim and Jon have experienced, and this brings me peace. All three of us can’t be loopy. Eleven years of coincidences? Regular, consistent, inexplicable coincidences?
Never will I “get over” losing my beloved son. That doesn’t happen. We learn to live with our grief and to find peace with our grief. And that doesn’t just occur, and then, voila!, you’re all better now. Being at peace with your grief is a life-long process.
That process involves exploring options as coping tools, learning how to manage your grief, while you continue to live your life and care for others, and for me, connecting with my son on a spiritual level.
Sometimes, it is difficult to believe that 11 years have come and gone, since Michael’s passing. For him, it’s less than a blink of an eye.
But I have counted every minute, and I have shed a river of tears, simply missing his physical presence. I remind myself that while I am 11 years further away from our last physical contact, I am 11 years closer to being reunited with Michael in the spiritual realm of bliss. And someday, all four of us will be together again.
That isn’t the least bit maudlin to me. That is realistic. And believing in our reunion is an important aspect for me in preparing for Jonathan joining his brother, and for whatever Jim and I might face in the coming years as elders. That is our reality. Michael is helping us to understand and embrace it.
I know that Michael is free, happy, and most of all, still here, in a unique, remarkable, amazing way. When I lose sight of that truth, Michael sends me a reminder. As I see life through Michael’s perspective, I gain strength. In ways, far too difficult to define, Michael also guides me through Jon’s declining health issues.
Because Michael’s job, and Jon’s job, their Earthly purpose, is to teach and enlighten, I continue to learn and grow. The farther we travel on this journey together, the more apparent that Big Picture is to me.
It isn’t complicated to figure out. It’s not a puzzle or a riddle. It’s a basic concept of love ~ loving each other unconditionally.
On this year’s Mother’s Day morning, the first words Jon spoke to me upon awakening were, “Mommy? I love you.” He graced me with his sweet smile and looked at me with his sparkling blue eyes, as he reached up to pull me closer for a hug.
In him, I saw a reflection of his darling brother, and I knew that Jon was serving as Michael’s messenger at that moment. Both of my boys were hugging me. I could feel it within my soul.
Thus began the Month of May 2014, the Eleventh Year of Grieving.
We miss you deeply Michael, but we are grateful to feel your presence and to receive your gifts of love as we await our reunion with you.
In tribute to you, my Precious Angel, this is my 1432nd post on BrainTalk.
Your Light Shines On ~
I love you, my darling son.
Mommy
xo xo xo xo
I BELIEVE
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Every May for 11 years, I relive the last month of Michael’s Earthly life. Beginning with Mother’s Day, when he was whisked away in an ambulance to ER, where he coded and was intubated, to Memorial Day, when he received his wings. And everything, which happened in between.
Although we throw a thin veil over our memories, some remain vivid. I can recall it all. I realize now that I always will. I don’t want to forget it or avoid it. Those were my last days with my son. They are precious memories, albeit excruciatingly painful.
What has changed during this past decade (plus one) is my acceptance of our physical separation. That acceptance is exceptionally easier for me, because Michael continuously lets me know that his spirit is still quite present.
This year on Mother’s Day, Michael sent me a perfect rose, the first bloom of the year on our Peace rose. Later in the day, he sent an adult red tail hawk to drink and bathe in Michael’s waterfall pond. I missed seeing the hawk, but Jim watched him, then found me to tell me about the hawk, just as it flew away. The rose for me, the hawk for Jim. Perfect. The potted day lilies in Michael’s garden are blooming abundantly. Every day new ones appear. They haven’t produced like that for several years.
The hawk visited again today, and this time I noticed it first. Jim and I watched as the majestic bird drank and bathed in Michael’s pond. This isn’t something we see regularly. These moments are gifted to us during those times, when our grief for Michael is heightened by a special occasion or holiday. He finds a dramatic way to tell us that he is still near.
Skeptics might rightly question the significance of these signs, but in the last 11 years, Michael has revealed to us his presence in so many undeniable ways that we’ve become accustomed to his message carriers. And to those, who might scoff ~ I simply know what I know, what I’ve experienced, what Jim and Jon have experienced, and this brings me peace. All three of us can’t be loopy. Eleven years of coincidences? Regular, consistent, inexplicable coincidences?
Never will I “get over” losing my beloved son. That doesn’t happen. We learn to live with our grief and to find peace with our grief. And that doesn’t just occur, and then, voila!, you’re all better now. Being at peace with your grief is a life-long process.
That process involves exploring options as coping tools, learning how to manage your grief, while you continue to live your life and care for others, and for me, connecting with my son on a spiritual level.
Sometimes, it is difficult to believe that 11 years have come and gone, since Michael’s passing. For him, it’s less than a blink of an eye.
But I have counted every minute, and I have shed a river of tears, simply missing his physical presence. I remind myself that while I am 11 years further away from our last physical contact, I am 11 years closer to being reunited with Michael in the spiritual realm of bliss. And someday, all four of us will be together again.
That isn’t the least bit maudlin to me. That is realistic. And believing in our reunion is an important aspect for me in preparing for Jonathan joining his brother, and for whatever Jim and I might face in the coming years as elders. That is our reality. Michael is helping us to understand and embrace it.
I know that Michael is free, happy, and most of all, still here, in a unique, remarkable, amazing way. When I lose sight of that truth, Michael sends me a reminder. As I see life through Michael’s perspective, I gain strength. In ways, far too difficult to define, Michael also guides me through Jon’s declining health issues.
Because Michael’s job, and Jon’s job, their Earthly purpose, is to teach and enlighten, I continue to learn and grow. The farther we travel on this journey together, the more apparent that Big Picture is to me.
It isn’t complicated to figure out. It’s not a puzzle or a riddle. It’s a basic concept of love ~ loving each other unconditionally.
On this year’s Mother’s Day morning, the first words Jon spoke to me upon awakening were, “Mommy? I love you.” He graced me with his sweet smile and looked at me with his sparkling blue eyes, as he reached up to pull me closer for a hug.
In him, I saw a reflection of his darling brother, and I knew that Jon was serving as Michael’s messenger at that moment. Both of my boys were hugging me. I could feel it within my soul.
Thus began the Month of May 2014, the Eleventh Year of Grieving.
We miss you deeply Michael, but we are grateful to feel your presence and to receive your gifts of love as we await our reunion with you.
In tribute to you, my Precious Angel, this is my 1432nd post on BrainTalk.
Your Light Shines On ~
I love you, my darling son.
Mommy
xo xo xo xo
I BELIEVE
Only registered and activated users can see links., Click Here To Register...
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