Wednesday, October 23, 2013

On Sunday morning, as I was loading up my car for the big day, I found myself for 3 minutes outside on my front lawn alone.  I looked up at the sky and asked Maxie to please be with us on that day and to give us a sign that he was there.  "No vague, hard to decipher signs either," I told him, "but something big.  Something that slaps me in the face so that I KNOW your spirit really lives on - not just through our remembering you - and that you know how much we love you."

I ask for signs all of the time.  ALL OF THE TIME.  Every night before I go to sleep, I ask Maxie to come to me in my dreams.  Every day, I ask for signs that he is with me and that we will be together again.  I really don't ever see the signs.  It is so frustrating and I just cannot let it go.

Other people get signs!  Why don't I?  A girlfriend used to tell me all of the time about the toys in her house lighting up on their own and about televisions going on and off.  Other bereaved parents have told me about being able to talk to their child and hear their child's response.  Am I not hearing him because he was pre-verbal?  Am I not seeing these signs because I am focusing on the wrong things?  Am I "trying too hard"?  Or, is there no spirit at all?  Is he just gone from everywhere but my photographs and memories?  That idea kills me - especially because most of the time, I really think that is the truth - and that everything else is just a grieving heart trying to make sense of the unthinkable.  I don't know.

And yet, when my grandparents died, I seemed to have some innate knowledge that they weren't really gone.  When my father's father passed, I knew I wanted to say a few more things to him but wasn't sure how to do that with someone who had died - so I remember finding a tape recorder and just talking to him.  And, I've never really questioned whether my mom's parents are still with me.  I have always felt them. Since their passing, I have felt like I've had some inner knowledge that they were watching over me.

But searching for Maxie takes over my whole being.  It is an obsession.  When I have down time, I feel like it is wasted completely unless I am trying to find Max.  And the fact is, I may never find him.  I may never get the sign I am looking for and I may never know in my heart that he is with me - which is really all I want - to know IN MY HEART that we will be together again.  And it is during the times that I realize this that I just don't know how to take any steps forward - because my forward momentum is very much based in my hoping that I am moving towards him and that this life isn't just some great meaningless accident.

I never got the sign on Sunday.  Nothing - not a twinkling lightbulb or a rainbow hanging just exactly over the brewery or a thousand butterflies who just happened to fly through.  I know I set myself up for disappointment but I can't help myself.  From the deepest depths of my soul - I am desperately hoping that he was there and that he knows just how deeply we love him - what a big hole he's left in our lives.


GrahamForeverInMyHeart said...

I know exactly what you mean. I ask for signs, I look for signs, but I never get any at all. Just one sign would make me feel so much better, knowing that my son isn't completely gone. Both of my parents are gone and I've never had any signs from them (and neither have my brothers), but while I remain hopeful that someday I'll receive a sign, I also fear that it will just be my own wishful thinking.

Em said...

I have never had a sigh either. Although when she first died I had a 'feeling' of her presence one day when I came up the stairs. That's it. I hope and pray for dreams and signs. But, nothing. My only hope is the faith we have that gives us the hope that we are moving forward, towards her, rather than mocing forward, away from her...I just read a book. Alive and Well by Diane Knight about her experience during and after the death of her son, Justin. It has helped me some...

Kim B said...

Maybe the sign was that 200 people showed up and $17,000 was raised for First Candle in his name. That's a pretty strong sign in my mind that his spirit is still here, and making a deep and lasting impression.... xxxooo

Joyce Sachartoff said...

There's an old story about a guy who drowns in a flood and when he gets to heaven, tells god that he waited and waited for him, to no avail. He said that a helicopter came but he waived it away, waiting for god to save him. Then a boat came but he sent it away also, waiting for god to save him. And god said, "who do you think sent the helicopter and the boat?" So, maybe Kim B. is right because I knew almost nobody at that brewery but the love in that place took my breath away.

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