Today’s date – 29th January – has long held its own energy. It was the last time I held my mum’s hand as she slipped away. It seemed, even at that time, to be an honour, a sacred privilege to hold her hand, to be with her as she crossed that ethereal bridge to the waiting arms of her mother and father.
In those dark hours, sitting by her bedside, I had heard a strange crackling in the corner of the room. I ‘knew’ it was her mother and father they had come to meet her and were saying – ‘it’s time to come home Chris’. What a joyous homecoming that must have been for them all. I gave myself a talking-to afterward – ‘Your brain is playing tricks on you’. I hadn’t slept for days and I was jetlagged.
My mum’s own mum died when she was 5 years old. That signalled the end of the old life for her and her brother. They came down with Measles immediately after their mum had died, spent 3 weeks in hospital, and instead of their father picking them up to go home, the ‘Superintendent’ at the Orphanage in Bridge of Weir came to collect them. I’ve no doubt that since that time, all my mum ever wanted was a family and a ‘Home’, though she never spoke of that.
It was the depths of winter, dark and cold in Scotland – 13 years ago today when my mum was once more reunited with her family on the other side. She was finally ‘Home’.
But then, joy of joys, little signs appeared like shoots of new growth in Spring. Life began to open in magical ways as though someone was walking ahead of me, clearing the way, orchestrating moments, and meetings. One such meeting was with my now husband who I call Mr P (mainly because when we met, I couldn’t pronounce his surname). There were moments of strange familiarities, through his mannerisms, his likes, and dislikes, and yet he was completely different to anyone I’d ever known. I had no doubt my mum had ‘sent’ him to me because of numerous parallels and coincidences that seemed to ‘link’ him to her. I did for a while think my brain and perceptions must have been distorted by grief, seeing the signs in everything – through Mr P. We talked about how weird it was … but even he felt he somehow knew my mum through the stories I told him. My trust in my inner knowing strengthened to a point of acceptance. Even to this day, he will say or do something that brings my mum right back to my side as surely as if he was channeling her himself.
At this moment in time, Mr P is doing his best to find us that ‘forever’ ‘Home’. While it’s been emotionally draining on some levels, it has been an adventure too – seeing new places and ‘dreaming in’ new possibilities of what the rest of our lives look like in our new home. I look for signs with each new home we inspect.
Another such meeting, which I thanked my mum for orchestrating, was between Eric and Toni. I knew my mum had sent him to her … his birthday being the 29th of January after all. From that moment, the 29th of January became a day of joy and celebration … yes there was loss – and there was birth – and laughter through cakes blowing out candles, balloons and embarrassing photos. It linked Eric to my mum, somehow and linked us all together as a soul family … But Eric left us too soon – to go home. He left his beautiful mum and dad, his family, his friends, and his fiancée, and we feel … well … we are still at a loss for words. We know he is in the arms of adoring family who have gone before him, and I know on some level he has caught up with my mum up there – clearing paths, orchestrating moments, and meetings.
During those early days, Toni and I talked of going ‘home’ to Scotland. I wanted her to feel the arms of family, her dad, second mum, siblings, aunties, uncles, cousins, and my own friends who had known her as a baby … it felt important that she have some time to connect with those that love her so she knows and feels she is part of an even bigger family – so she can feel all the love around her.
Flights were still crazy expensive though and it was looking tricky to organise and really not possible for one or two of us, let alone three of us at this time – until a promotional fair popped up… date of travel … you’ve guessed it – 29th January. After checking that Toni felt she would be OK to travel that date, we booked it. It just seemed to be such an obvious sign amongst the $4000+ flights to see one significantly more affordable than all the rest.
So, this evening Toni will be flying ‘Home’ to Scotland – to the other side of the world – to the arms of a family who have had to love her from a distance over the years. I have to trust in this sign that Eric and my mum helped orchestrate this trip on today of all days. Of course, I am going to miss her. We have been together practically every day over these last few months. But I also know it’s time … and she will be back in March.
Some days it is hard to believe and trust. Believe that life will go on, believe that our loved ones are still there in Spirit, watching over us, with us every step of the way. It’s hard to trust ourselves when we see the signs. But I’m here to say – trust those signs are there – you don’t even have to look far to see them. You just have to trust these signs are from your loved ones. They clear the pathways ahead of us, they orchestrate moments and meetings, and they send songs, butterflies, feathers and little moments in the flutter of a nearby dragonfly – a shining date that looms from the calendar.
As I finish this article – I kid you not, a poor Little Wattlebird has just found itself on the wrong side of the glass veranda. It’s a death trap the landlords, in their infinite wisdom, have erected around the upstairs deck. The bird kept trying to fly but it kept jumping up and hitting the glass. I wasn’t sure if it was stunned at first or a fledgling still unable to fly properly. The veranda is up on the second floor, so it got up there somehow. My WIRES training kicked in, and with the help of Mr P gathering the necessary first aid items, we brought the wee thing indoors to give him protection from predators and to check him over and observe him. It’s important to check for damage, wounding or disease – but my feeling was this little guy was fine and would be able to fly again – he just needed darkness, warmth, and safety until he had composed himself. It wasn’t too long before I heard mum … I didn’t want her stressing too much so I took the little adventurist downstairs to the foot of the tree where the Wattlebirds sing. After opening the box, he just sat blinking at me in indignation as they often do – so I wished him luck and moved away… Mum soon hoped over and called out to him – and off he flew to join her …
Coming back to my desk to write, I can’t help but smile. Signs – there’s me writing about how our loved ones send us feathers to let us know they are around … and seconds later a whole bird lands on our deck. The symbolism– well you just can’t ignore that level of validation, can you?
For those navigating pain and loss, your loved ones are around you – sending signs, messages, and ripples of love. You just have to believe, trust and receive.
Sending all of you love & light x