Love

My Hand Felt the Soft Flannel of His Shirt

His chest was strong.

I was laying across his chest. I could feel his warmth and I felt safe and comforted.

I felt his arms around me, holding me, stroking my back.

“Dad, where have you been?”

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t see his face, but I knew it was him.

I could feel myself relax. Let go. And I knew I was safe.

A while later, I woke up. As I tried to get out of bed, the vertigo slammed me again, so I laid back down.

I tried to take my mind off of the situation. I was purposefully choosing to take myself away. Scenes from my youth passed before my eyes and then I remembered that dad had been there, comforting me moments earlier as well as during the night when I was a kid.

Seafood was a special treat in the family. We lived on Cape Cod, and after a storm, scallops would be washed up on the beach in the crook of the jetty. Mom would take a few of us and we would bring along then drag grain bags from the horses. We’d get up before dawn and go to the beach and pick up as many of the scallops as we could.

There would be a heck of a rinsing, then shucking process when we got home culminating in mom making breaded scallops for dinner.

They tasted so good going down. Everyone was chatty at the table and there was excited, good conversation flowing. After cleanup pretty soon it would be bed after a long fruitful day.

After a while, my stomach would begin to hurt. And then I would get sick. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time this happened that my parents realized I was allergic to shellfish.

And each of those times I was sick, Dad would help me in the bathroom, get me cleaned up and into some new jammies and he would lay with me on the couch, on his chest, or snuggled up behind his knees as we both laid out trying to get some sleep. He always held me until I felt better.

A couple of nights earlier, as I lay in bed, trying to make the world not spin, my husband‘s face came to my mind’s eye. He was standing over me, but I could see his face reflected in our van window. He was standing with the kind of stance that said, I am here. What do you need, what can I do for you? He was lifelike, and so real I felt I could have reached out to touch him.

You might call these dreams, but I called them visitations. You will not be able to convince me that the lines in the universes weren’t blurred, and that my father and my husband didn’t come to help me in my Darkest Hour. It was too real and too emotional.

Rosemary Altea always talks about the spirit world seeing all. She says, they hear us, they watch us, they cheer for us, they try to help us.

So even though I might be physically alone, these two instances this week reminded me I am never truly alone.

There are some days when I don’t get to touch my to do list, and I think the day was a waste and I realize it’s never a waste if you can appreciate something in the day.

Perspective is very important.

There are certainly things that thwart us in life. I wish in so many ways that I never have to experience anything bad again. I’ve had enough. I could certainly use some downtime from all these lessons.

But would I grow? Would I understand those that walk in and out of my life? Do we actually have to step a moment in someone else’s shoes to truly appreciate what they’re going through?

I was always sympathetic when I learned of someone’s passing and checked up on them. I visited, or invited them out, or brought them a meal, and yes, sometimes it was awkward.

But I felt the urge to do more after I lost my parents, after I lost my cousin, after I lost my husband. Because I could truly identify the pain in myself with the pain in them. Prior, I could only imagine what they were feeling.

Is that why bad things happen to good people?

On top of that when these situations arise, how far down do we sink into victimhood or how high do we rise because of the pain?

February and March found me in Connecticut — a drive of about 1300 miles. My father-in-law was going in for knee replacement surgery and my mother-in-law was 10 weeks postop. They needed help and they needed it right away.

Even they said, they underestimated how much help they would need. Besides recuperating, they’ve decided to downsize and move into an apartment and so that was suddenly added into the mix.

I must say, I really relished the time with them. As a widow living alone, having the opportunity to have a meal with somebody else is a real treat. Swapping stories, and being useful was all good for me. Maybe in more ways than it was good for them. It had been a long time since I laughed with someone.

So when I drove home and found myself flat on my back, and unable to care for myself, of course I asked God, “Why me?”

I mean, I really “gave at the office” didn’t I? I thought I paid it forward earning some good times.

I can’t tell you why bad things happen to good people. I don’t think God is doing these things to us.

I do think our thoughts and our actions and the life we lead present opportunities for us to grow.

And I think things will keep happening until we get the message.

Let’s face it, everybody’s going through something. Some of it shows up physically, some of it shows up mentally, and if we would just give everybody a break and watch out for at least one person besides ourselves, the world could be a better place.

I’ve been fortunate to be given so many signs since my husband’s passing — granted they’re never enough, and they will never replace his presence.

I’ve been reminded about the kindnesses of people in my life that I may not have truly appreciated in those moments.

Perhaps believing in the ability of our loved ones to watch over us will never be something for you dear reader but you have to admit the Universe leaves us asking more questions.

In the midst of life’s challenges, there are moments when we feel like Indiana Jones, standing at the edge of a chasm with no clear path forward. It’s in these moments of uncertainty that the wisdom of surrender becomes profoundly relevant. Just as Indy faced an impossible task in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark,’ we too may encounter situations where the answers elude us and the path ahead seems obscured.

I’m reminded of one pivotal scene, where Indy finds himself confronted with a seemingly insurmountable obstacle: a bottomless chasm that separates him from his goal. Saving his father. In a stroke of brilliance born from desperation, he remembers his father’s teachings about trusting in the wisdom of the universe as his father once did with ancient manuscripts and spiritual texts, Indy throws a handful of sand into the abyss, hoping to reveal a hidden path.

This moment encapsulates the essence of surrender — letting go of the need for concrete answers and trusting in the guidance of something greater than ourselves. By releasing our grip on certainty and embracing the mystery of existence, we open ourselves to unexpected solutions and newfound clarity.

Just as the grains of sand illuminated Indy’s path across the chasm, so too can we surrender to illuminate our journey through life’s uncertainties. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most profound insights come not from seeking answers, but from surrendering to the flow of life and trusting in the wisdom of the universe.

Somewhere out there are the people who loved me here. What if love has no boundaries?

Thank you for listening to all of my ponderings. I would really appreciate it if you checked out my children’s book, A New Baby at Happy Gates Ranch. https://store.bookbaby.com/book/a-new-baby-at-happy-gates-ranch