He didn't sleep much last night. He wasn't terribly sad or unhappy or grief stricken, but He was simply awake at about 2:15 this morning.
Overnight, we had what, for Cincinnati, constitutes a significant snowfall, and at 5:39 this morning, my phone rang with the news that school was cancelled for today. What a wonderful gift. With the window coverings opened, and His head cradled on my stomach, we laid together in the early morning darkness, watching the storm, while I gently scratched His back.
In the quietness, slowly, I began to be aware of a sparkling blinking in and out of my vision in the corners of the room, up near the ceiling. I watched it come and go, winking in and out, glimmering in the early morning dark. When it became clear that the phenomenon was actually really there, I whispered to Him, "We have a sparkly."
"What?" He asked.
"A sparkly," I replied. "We have a sparkly. I think it is your Mother."
That brought tears, and then wonderment, and then a quiet, joyful, awe-struck conversation with our blinking sparkly. Of course, the firebrand that was His mother WOULD manifest as a sparkly. How delightful!
Eventually, as the morning lightened, the sparkly faded from view, but it was a wonderful way to start our day.
swan
Dearest Beloved Swan and family;
ReplyDeleteFirst of all allow me to send my sympathies and bright blessings to you all in this time of loss. i am quite familiar with loss of family lately, including those that had lived long and fulfilling lives. i have also experienced my share of "sparkly" returns as well. i firmly believe that the spirituality of our loved ones will send us well wishes before wandering off, only to return to check on us periodically. To you all, i send my well wishes, best thoughts and a happy Valentines Day to you all as you enjoy your lingering winter and the tears you will share as the months go by.