Am I Being Flippant About Death and Dying When I Say ‘Que Sera Sera’?
Whatever will be, will be
It has been 28 days since my beloved mother’s beautiful spirit vacated the austere temple of her fragile body and headed for another dimension of existence. The place all of us have, in spiritual form, tacitly agreed should remain veiled behind the experience of ‘real life’ within the classroom known as humanity. Without such an agreement the lessons designed to grow our spirits could not possibly be taken seriously.
You’d probably have to search far and wide to find a person who is not, at least, casually familiar with the idea that certain people among us are naturally, or unnaturally depending on your perspective, gifted with the ability to communicate with those who’ve crossed over. For these people, the veil between us and them is thin or doesn’t exist at all.
Most of us aren’t really sure where ‘over there’ actually is, since you can’t point to it on a map, but at least we’re willing to embrace the real possibility that standing alone, our five senses naturally limit our ability to see beyond the constructs of our basic existence, at least, in this dimension.
It’s actually humorous when you think about how spatially oriented we are to our world through certain religious and scientific pretexts and artifacts of thinking. For example, if I said, ‘up there’ a large percentage of you would think, Heaven, whether you believe it exists or not, and the same goes if I said, ‘down there’ most would think of Hell.
How much more limiting can our perceptions of time and space be than to only allow ourselves only to move up and down, or left and right throughout our existing dimension?
Restricting our perceptions in this manner is quite like wearing a spiritual straight jacket.
Regardless of my rhetorical ramblings, I rest my case when I say to you that while we are so firmly fastened to these spatial ideas about this physical reality it could be said that we are deaf, dumb and blind. Yet, these virulent physical forces such as time, space and gravity which appear to be ‘nonnegotiable’ to us in our corporeal state cannot restrict the movement of spiritual energy in the slightest degree.
Having been born with a deep desire to consciously recover from a willful case of spiritual amnesia, I have found within me a knowing that surpasses what my functional brain can perceive and understand. A knowing which is irrevobably connected to, and part of, the Universal Mind. That is to say the Mind of God, which is eternal.
Restricting our perceptions in this manner is quite like wearing a spiritual straight jacket.
This is probably how my mom was able to reach me the morning following her death, my channel had been blown wide open.
On the morning of the day my mother was to die, I knew in my heart she would soon be leaving us. I stayed close by for hours holding her hand, talking to her and softly singing to her. I was absolutely certain she was hearing everything, and I felt her clear presence in the room. I thought I had already expressed everything I needed to say to my mom, but it seemed I had one more thing to ask of her.
Because my mom had always been reluctant to speak of death, in any context, we never directly discussed her imminent passing, nor did we make a plan for her to contact me after she’d gone.
But I was not willing to give up on the possibility my mom could contact me and here’s why:
I had an extraordinary experience some years prior with my dear friend Dina. She had been ill for quite some time before her death which enabled us to make a plan for post death contact prior to her departure.
The plan was simple, she chose a distinct song and told me I would hear it within a few days of her passing. Once I heard the song I would know she was well and on the ‘other side’. As her death got nearer, she would remind me of our little pact while humming a few bars of the song.
On the third day, the day before I was to leave my Florida home and travel back to St Louis for her memorial I received her message. Both the song and the source were unusual which would also be reminiscient of my dear friend’s quirkiness making it impossible to dismiss the event as mere coincidence.
Whatever will be will be
The contact song we had agreed upon was “Que Sera Sera” made popular in the 1950’s by girl-nest-door- siren, Doris Day. Only my source wasn’t Doris, it was TV sitcom actress, Fran Drescher, of The Nanny singing “Que Sera Sera” in her attention grabbing, nasally tone only moments after I’d switched on the TV set (something I rarely did). You’ve got to admit, this was not a song one would hear everyday, and I should add, there was no agreement about who or where the song would come from, just that I would hear it.
Que Sera Sera, whatever will be will be
the future’s not ours to see
Que sera sera, what will be will be.
Hence, I knew it could be done. What did I have to lose by asking?
With this objective in mind, the afternoon of my mother’s death I asked her two, maybe three times very clearly, ‘If you’re able, would you please let me know you are okay after you’ve gone?’
She would probably say I was ‘pestering’ her, and she’d be right, but I simply couldn’t help myself. I had to know she would be okay after she had left us.
Once the frayed silver cord connecting her to us and this world had been severed, a howl of grief arose from the vacancy her absence would soon leave deep within my soul. I felt hollow and unsure as my sister rocked my sobbing body. I had momentarily forgotten what I had always felt was true, we are more than our bodies.
Fortunately, I can be a real birdbrain!
The morning after her death I was awakened before dawn by a sound that penetrated my sleep with the distinct efficiency of an electronic alarm clock; however, there was no such device in the room where I slept, nor did I know of one anywhere in the house.
I arose thinking my dad’s oxygen machine must be sending out some sort of an alarm and I went to investigate. Poking my head quietly behind his bedroom door I found nothing amiss, no beeping machines or alarm clocks needing silenced and he was sleeping undisturbed.
Thank you for your SOS Mr Samuel Morse!
The insistent pattern of high pitched beeping drew me through the darkened house to the family room where I arrived nearer to the source of the sound which had now changed to a series of tones or beeps which immediately put me in mind of Morse code.
I opened the door to the outside deck and there at the top of the flowering crabapple tree was a small bird obscured branches and predawn darkness ‘dit-ting and dah-ing’ away in a repeated pattern that sounded more electronic than avian. I had never heard any bird communicate in this manner before in my life.
Suddenly what was happening was so obvious to me that I blurted out, “Mom” uttering her name to the pre-dawn stars. Stars which were still beautifully shining as if the world had not changed one iota by events from the day before, even though I was certain I would never admire the universe in the same way again.
I quickly snatched my mobile phone from the kitchen table and recorded the bird’s repeating message lest I be tempted by disbelief later.
By evening, the bird’s unique song kept popping into my head, pestering me to understand it beyond just hearing it and feeling like it had been my mom.
I was really bugged. I felt like I’d been given a gift, but I didn’t quite get it, or understand what it was I’d actually been given. Not yet, anyway. Recalling that the birdsong had sounded so much like Morse code to me, I searched the internet for a morse code translator without knowing whether such a thing existed or not and wouldn’t you know it? I found a Morse code translator which works much like an online language translator! Thank you very much Google.
I put in the bird’s simple pattern of dits and dahs, and hit the translate command. To my utter and complete astonishment the translator returned two letters in this order: O and K.
Mom had done it! She was telling me she was OKAY!
She’s okay! I rejoiced and shared the message with my two sisters and my dad after they’d gotten up. Of course, they were a tiny bit skeptical, but I was not at all skeptical. I didn’t have to “believe it” I had experienced her communication not with my ears along but with my heart! I knew she had done it, she had let me know she was okay! I was so proud of my Mom! I was elated and thoroughly impressed not to mention humbled by the spiritual energy she must have had to exert to contact me with the requested message.
This was love, pure and simple.
Another day passed and nothing out of the ordinary transpired. It was a difficult time for all of us. Then on the third day following her death the exact same scenario repeated itself.
In case you missed it or are tempted to doubt me
Again, the insistent sound of an alarm clock woke me before dawn and there on my parents’ side deck was my little bird frantically beeping away in dots and dashes. The pattern was the same, which I quickly recognized as [I’m] OK!
A broad smile spread across my face and relief flooded my heart as I thought, Yes, I will miss you everyday Mama, but I won’t have to wonder or worry about you, you’ve answered my prayer. I know you’re better than okay, you’re free! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
That evening, again feeling like I’d missed a final piece of the message which would allay any natural skepticism once and for all, I searched the internet for birds that sing in a manner reminiscent of morse code. Lo and behold, I found there is a small bird called a junco which earned itself the nickname of “the morse code bird” for communicating in a morse code-like song.
My mom intuitively knew I would pick up on the Morse code and since we both shared a love for birds she found the perfect messenger even though we hadn’t agreed upon this or any other arrangement prior to her departure.
I haven’t heard the little junco ‘ditting and dahing’ since then, but I don’t need to because I’m convinced beyond a doubt my mom is on the other side and she is a-okay. She is free of her illnesses and the fragile limitations of her body.
In the recent discussions and articles about the human body invited by Medium’s sharp editorial staff, I thought this a unique and timely contribution to remind all of us we are much more than a body floating through time and space. We are Spirit, each of us a divine and unique expression of the Mind of God and I’m convinced we go on forever.
