Excerpt
 

My steps going into the house were cautious, tiny baby steps. I held onto the walls, bracing myself for what I didn’t quite know. The last time I had come through this backdoor my husband was literally bouncing off the walls in anguish and pain. Now I was trembling, fearing I might find a piece of his flesh or bone. The thought terrorized and gripped me. Gail stayed close, not knowing what to say, but watched my every step.

Moving through the dining room I saw that everything was bright, clean and freshly painted. The chair where I had last seen and touched my beloved was moved from the corner, where it had sat for many years. It was as if nothing had occurred. I only wished that it could be that easy.

Steadying myself, I cautiously stepped toward the living room. My body felt like it was braced in steel. A frightened breath was suspended somewhere in the contracted tissues of my form. Perhaps the held breath shared temporary occupancy with the now-in-residence scream. Those few steps seemed like an eternity. Once in the living room, I fell onto the couch and released the tight breath, and allowed a deep full one to fill me. My body softened.

Looking back at this, it is amazing that I received no professional help, counseling, or medical care. I was teetering on the edge of this world and on another one surely off center. But perhaps if I had been medicated I would not have experienced the wondrous phenomena. There is Divine Order in the midst of great tragedy.

For a few days I just wept, holding tightly on to myself as an excruciating pain ripped through my belly and heart. Music became my ally; the love songs on the soft rock station helped me to sob as I called out to my lover. Many questions were bleeding through me.

While washing dishes one afternoon, I was weeping and singing to Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle when the music from the living room stereo abruptly changed. What is this country music? I thought. It doesn’t seem to fit with this station. I went to the stereo. To my amazement, the dial was on a different channel, far from my favorite 92.

What’s going on? I moved the tuner all the way back to my favorite station and returned to the dishes.

A brief moment passed. My hands were soapy and wet, and I was beginning to sing a new song, when the music changed to country again. Whoa! . . . I thought, this is much too weird. What’s happening? I dashed back to the stereo. Again the dial was set on the country station. As I moved it slowly back, it hit me: Oh my God, this is Lucky, this is his favorite station! But how impossible is that? Quite preposterous, I thought, it must be some quirk with the equipment. Yes that’s it. I will take the stereo to be repaired. Settled.

I hadn’t made it around the corner when it happened again. This time I giggled, for my husband’s mischievous grinning energy was with me.

Stopped in my tracks in the dining room, I felt his energy begin to wrap all around me. The feeling was intense and warm, yet chills ran through my body. My heart was beating wildly, as if it were leaping within itself.

“Oh it is you.” I felt him for a moment as he washed over me. More than anything, I wanted to touch him.

“Where are you? . . . I can feel it . . . I can feel you.”

His love and playfulness were fully present, as when he had been well. Around and around I turned in the middle of the dining room. Joyful tears streamed down my face as my hands reached out hoping that I would feel something tangible, something I could hold onto. But there was only air.

I was experiencing a strange yet exhilarating heightened state. Every hair on my body was raised.

“It is you.” My heart cried out to him. “I love you so!”

I wanted to hold him to me and sink into the safety of his strong arms. Stopped in the moment, by our love, I let it soak in. It filled me completely.

“All right you’re here, but where? I can’t see you, I can only feel you.”

For a long time I just sat in amazement on the dining room floor, absorbing the sensation.

“Where are you?” I cried out again. “Are you okay?” With that the excruciating pain of his loss returned.

“I am so sorry for what I said, please forgive me.” Sobs overtook me as I sputtered out the words. “I didn’t want you to die; I didn’t want you to leave me.”

It was then that I felt a soft brush against my cheek, almost like a breeze, warm and gentle. My eyes shifted right then left. I turned my head in the hope that I would catch a glimpse of him. I knew he was with me, I just couldn’t see him. I rested in his love for a very long time, until the feeling eventually faded.

Not knowing what to do next, I began to pray.

“What do I do now Lord? What do I do with all of this?”

Impressed upon me was the word, Write.

That day and in the days that followed, poetry and stories spilled out of me, speaking of my great sorrow. I wrote endless letters to him.

“Where are you?” I’d ask, looking up from the tear-stained pages of letters his physical eyes would never see. “Please come back to me. Let me know you’re all right.”

And then, within my despair and my longing, I remembered our promise, the last words, along with “I love you,” that I had heard just before he died.

For time and all eternity.

Love never dies. Lucky was here with me. He had not left.

Return