May 12, 2007
The First Of Many Gifts From A Loved One

In January 2003, as I was walking this new unfamiliar path of grief, I learned to be open to receive signs and messages from my dear Michael and other family on the other side. Sometimes these signs were subtle and could be missed if one was not paying attention. And sometimes they were so blatant, right in front of you, you could not miss them. On an unconscious level, I must have been of a knowing heart and trusting that I was still connected to Michael and family who no longer lived on this earthly plane.
Two particular instances of these gifts bestowed, stand out in my memory.
We buried my son, Saturday, the 26th of January. The weather, coincidentally, matched my spirits- piercing cold and bleak! Filled with great sadness in my heart, I observed from an unfamiliar place the celebration Mass of Death. My two older children delivered beautiful eulogies to their brother. Sarah spoke of a babysitter years before who brought the three siblings outside to look at the stars, one clear night when she was young. The sitter pointed to Orion’s Belt up in the sky and told them that each of the three stars were symbolic of them- a special star representing – Jimmy, Sarah and Michael. Sarah lovingly told us all how Michael would forever be that shining star in her life and when she looks at Orion’s Belt in the sky she will know Michael is with us all for all time. Wearily, we returned home that evening after a very long emotional day. Relatives and close friends came back to the house to show their respects. I remember so vividly when darkness had come, that Sarah asked us all to go outside to see Orion’s Belt appearing so brightly in the sky. As we gazed upon this wonder, a shooting star shot across the line of three stars. In that moment, I felt assured that Michael was giving us all a sign he was with us! It was a phenomenon that I still look back upon with happiness! The shooting star was so like Michael to gather everyone’s attention that it brought both tears and a smile simultaneously. A special moment to be remembered!
Two days later, I was being driven to the cemetery after attending a morning Mass. Someone else was driving. To be honest, since I had only been there to pick out this plot when the news was still so fresh and then again the day that we buried him, I knew I would not have known which turns to take to find this new home where I had committed my youngest to lie.
As a little background: My father had 13 grandchildren and each lovingly called him Gampy, (of course, some days, the whisper escaped referring to him lovingly, of course, as Grumpy.) Michael was grandchild number 13 and boy, did he give my father a run for his money!
It was a brisk January day that Monday when we drove to the cemetery for the first time since the funeral. Upon entering the gates, a gravestone flashed before my minds eye to catch my attention and I asked Barbara, my dear friend and boss who was driving, to back up. I thought I saw the words Gampy! To my surprise, when we backed up, the word was actually Grumpy. But…what I saw next to that stone clearly registered my attention even more! A black stone majestically stood, completely covered by snow with the lone name WALTER, peering through the glistening white. Now mind you, there were four lines of writing engraved on this stone but only one word was not obscured! Wow, that was my father’s name… WALTER! And what I had thought to be Gampy was how I came to see this other black stone. I had chills up and down my back! My body filled with such feelings of warmth and love when I read my beloved fathers name. COMFORT that I needed so badly, in that moment in time, seeped into my sad and broken heart. The anticipation of this first visit to Michael’s grave had filled me with tumultuous emotions as I dreaded the upcoming sight of that barren snowy mound where my son was newly buried. But I knew, instantly, upon seeing my father’s name that this was a sign from my dad to tell me he was there with me and wanted me to know of his loving presence. What a blessing - this gift of knowing I was not alone each time I visited my sons grave at Oakview Cemetery.
The shooting star and presence of my dad were the first of many signs that appeared before me bringing more of that knowing comfort in the deepest of dark days. Sometimes the sign would be in the form of an animal or a special song on the radio or an identifiable Michael smell. Other times it might be a familiar saying, a so-called Michaelism, that I would see printed on the side of a truck.
Each day I looked for that special sign to help me through that given day as I walked along the lonely road of grief.
I know those who have experienced this devastation of losing someone they love dearly, will understand that we measure life by new standards. We may find it easier to live amidst a compartmentalized timeframe- moment to moment. I often would remind myself to live in the moment, as that is all I could now be sure of! Life was tenuous and navigation uncertain… But the sign I received each day helped me get to the next and the next. A slow journey, for sure, but I will be forever grateful for those signs, each a precious gift, that gave me the simple measure of comfort on a very bumpy road!
Please feel free to email me about any signs you may have received along your journey.

This week I have been thinking about my process of grieving. It has been 4 1/2 years since my son, Michael died. Grief is complicated as it is such an individual process. Each person does it their own way and in their own timing. There is no script.
My true grieving started when the funeral was over, dearest friends went home, and the phone stopped ringing. Somehow, I realized I needed to redefine myself-for what had been important before Michael's death, no longer was important. For weeks, life went by moment to moment, hour to hour and day to day. I measured time always in relation to the day Michael died. Tuesdays were the dreaded day of the week. The arrival of Tuesday mean't I had survived another week since he left me. That became my benchmark of time in the early days. It seems ironic that one can can get caught in such a pattern but I remember I was living in a world of deep pain and felt so at odds with what used to be what I considered normal.
Dr. Roberta Temes in " Living With An Empty Chair- A Guide Through Grief" describes 3 types of behavior of those in the process of grieving.

"Numbness ( mechanical functioning and social insulation)
Disorganization (intensely painful feelings of loss)
Reorganization (re-entry into a more “normal social life”

I look back and see the strong evidence of being in that state of denial for the first year. I was functioning but at a sub par level. I understood Michael was gone but often would think- I will wake up from this horrible dream and Michael will be here with me again. Reality somehow still escaped me. I vividly remembered moving to the disorganization stage. I felt such pain and anguish and physical longing for Michael. Nothing...seemed to ease these feelings. Reality began to hit home as each familiar situation triggered a Michael memory which brought forth the realization that Michael was not coming back... I would miss the sweetness of his smile, his boundless energy and that loving voice calling “Hi, Mom.” The gamut of emotions flowed through me as I grieved for all the what had beens and all the things he would never get to experience. At any given moment, I could be reduced to tears. Fortunately for me, I had 2 people in my life that had also experienced a loss. My sister Judy had lost her 20 year old son 16 years before and my friend and boss had lost her daughter 10 years prior to Michael’s death. They both listened with a knowing heart and walked with me on my path of grief. The combination of having someone to vent to at any given time and their compassion in response gave me such comfort. I believe their gift of love helped me through many difficult days. My trust in them enabled me to open to my rawest emotions. They both had unlimited patience and empathy. Their guidance, unwavering understanding and support were instrumental in my healing.
At around the 3 year mark, I entered the stage of Reorganization. I knew I needed to find my new life purpose. My journey of self exploration was ongoing. I became a seeker.
There is no end to grief as we never forget the person who has gone yet the the intensity of the pain has eased with time. One of my greatest discoveries is that I carry the essence of my son within my heart so he is never far away. And I readily acknowledge the gifts that he bestowed upon me in his short life. There were many Blessings that revealed themselves as I moved along my path of healing. My faith became my salvation and I became closer to God in these past few years as I prayed that HE would take care of Michael since I no longer could. I also feel I have grown, gained strength and have become more of the person I am deep in my soul.