I think since I am here so near to Salem MASS where the famous witch trials were held, it’s time I shared with you the last of my deep unspoken. Although I have spoken this story to a select few, it needs a written voice, it needs grounding.
When I was twenty-one I received a devastating call at work from my sister, Gemini. Gem called to let me know that her friend’s sister had passed away. My sister’s friend Page, our neighbour from across the street, had gone to a beach volley-ball tournament and taken her younger sister Lidija with her. Lidija, while swimming, had been caught in an undedrtow current close to shore. Another young man also swimming could not escape it. Both of them drowned.
I slumped weakly onto my desk and nearly passed out before Gemini finished the sentence.
All I could think of was Lidija shooting hoops in her front yard day after day. I remember saying to myself, one of these days I’m going to go over and ask if I can shoot hoops with her.
I had never taken advantage of any opportunity to be with her, even though I had always intended to. Regret is a lonely lover, one who can never satisfy.
Their family owned a flower shop right next to the funeral home. It was a little twisted for me to note that detail, but I couldn’t help it. At the funeral home we waited in a long line to offer our condolences to the family. Page’s mother hugged me like I was her daughter, tightly, while she wailed. She clung as though she knew me, as though I could possibly provide some comfort to her in the midst of her nightmare. I had nothing but me. She could hold on to me as tightly as she wanted and for as long as she needed. I could never understand her loss but perhaps I could absorb some of her pain, take it into me instead and lighten her load.
We sat down and I surveyed the room. There were easily over a hundred people present. Beautiful colourful floral arrangements graced the room and up the wall very near to the ceiling.
I sat there feeling bad for never having followed my instinct in relation to her, and now I’d never have that chance. It was my own fault.
I started talking to Lidija in my head. I knew she was listening. I quietly challenged her in my mind, Lidija, I know you can hear me, I know you’re here. Please let me know, give me a sign. Not two moments passed when a medium-sized floral arrangement fell from the wall. Just tipped over and crashed to the ground. That was my sign. There was no way that arrangement could’ve fallen on its own. It was centre, three-quarters of the way up the wall behind the casket, sitting on a shelf. The planter wasn’t large nor was it small. There were floral arrangements on either side, above and below, yet none of those seemed affected in any way by anything.
People stirred. I could almost hear them say, what a horrible thing to happen at the funeral. But it wasn’t. It was a great thing, at least for me. It was Lidija’s gift to me.
After the funeral I still felt a lot of guilt and unresolved feelings around not following the promptings of my repeated thoughts. They were inklings of higher truths that I didn’t respond to, that I consciously ignored.
I thought to myself, if only I had known, I would’ve been able to at least say goodbye. The Power of Intent is nothing to fool with. When dealing with this energy, there is no such thing as coincidence. This is the energy known as, ask and ye shall receive…and I did.
For Lidija
Continued on Thursday September 8th, 2011
I remain yours,
Lesley
Hallelujah Heartist
No comments:
Post a Comment