I've seen a few episodes of Long Island Medium and have been touched by her common theme, her repeated plea to us all - the love you feel doesn't go away, be open and aware of the signs, and believe them when you see them.
Ok, a touching moment, a sweet thought but there wasn't a someone I was hoping to connect with from "the other side", even if there are stories woven into our lives about it.
When I was pregnant with One Philly Son, my husband lost his grandfather. I didn't know Grand-pop very well, but I know he was salt-of-the-earth people and greatly loved. I cried at his funeral for the great grandson he almost got to meet.
When Grand-pop passed, he left something to be opened by his family after his services. Amazingly and unknowingly, it was the passage that had been selected for the cards at his funeral. I know I felt his presence that day.
To those I love and Those Who love me
When I am gone, release me, let me go.
You have so many things to see and do.
You mustn't tie yourself to me
with tears. Be happy that we
had so many years.
I gave you my love, you can only
guess, How much you gave me in
happiness. I thank you for the love you
each have shown, but now its time I
traveled on alone.
So grieve a while for me, if grieve
you must. Its only a
while that we must part.
So bless the memories within your heart.
I won't be far away, for life goes on.
So if you need me, call and I will hear.
Though you can't see or touch me,
I'll be near. And if you listen with
your heart, you'll hear, All my love
around you soft and clear.
And then, when you must come this way,
I'll greet you with a smile
and say "Welcome Home."
Prior to his passing, Grand-pop gifted us with a collection of the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, for us and our soon-to-be kid(s). The collection is not necessarily a "kid" version full of bright, colorful pictures, but a nicely bound, high-quality hardback book with a few black and white sketches to illustrate the story. An heirloom.
So imagine our surprise when, at just over a year, at a time when nothing held his attention and he never stopped moving, One Philly Son started spending time looking at these books. Not a brief glance, or a cursory examination on the way to something else. No, 45 minutes at a time, happily flopped on his chair, pointing and babbling away in baby-speak no one could translate. He was calm, focused, and quite happy. Even now, at 3 years old, there are days he takes these books down and spends an inexplicable amount of time "playing" with them. Even more astonishing, is the care he uses when moving, stacking, "reading" these books.
We've taken to saying "Hi, Grand-pop!" or "tell Grand-pop we say hi!" when he pulls these books out.
So when Robert passed, I involuntarily, greedily, selfishly hoped and looked forward to the day, moment when a simple unexpected something made me think of Robert, and made me think of his love, still here.
Yesterday, I rode the train to the city for work, only the third or fourth time I've done so in the past 2 years.
As I entered the train, I broke the cardinal commuter rule for a comfortable ride (and I know, I commuted to the city by train for nearly 5 years): I sat behind the two strangers talking about, of all things, guns and politics, across the aisle from each other.
I sat through rantings about the government and gun control and 9-11. Still, I wasn't bothered, I felt a pull to sit there, so I did.
And then it happened. The woman mentioned Robert's nephew, a prominent Judge in the Lehigh Valley, in a conversation that previously had zero relation to him, Robert, me, or anything that even slightly related to us.
That was enough for me to smile, to remember. A mention of a loved person we held in common, in a place I rarely am, overhearing a conversation that had zero reference to me, or Robert, or even his nephew.
When I returned home in the evening, a gift of a potted plant with a note of condolence acknowledging Robert as one of my Guardian Angels clinched the deal for me.
This was on the program at Robert's funeral:
An Irish Funeral Prayer
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt, nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
One Philly Son bears both Grand-pop and Robert's names for his middle names, and I know they will look out for him, and us, and it gives me great comfort.
Grand-pop and Robert, we love you and miss you. But you already knew that, didn't you?
