I make it a point every day to ‘talk’ to the candle I got at the Candle Lighting Ceremony a few weeks ago. It’s a suggestion someone made to me that really helps– find a way to communicate with the person you’ve lost and, in that way, keep them as part of your life. I don’t stand in front of the spot where Andy’s candle sits and talk out loud. I just take a few minutes as I’m getting ready each morning and concentrate on him. The candle feels like a physical connection.
This morning, the song ‘To Where You Are’ by Josh Groban came on the radio. There’s a line from the song that really captures my feelings– ‘I wish upon tonight to see you smile. If only for a while to know you’re there.’ I think the need to know the person who has been lost still exists in some form haunts everyone trying to come to terms with grief. As that line played today, I *felt* Andy with me. I closed my eyes and *felt* him there in my arms, bundled up like I used to hold him when he was a baby. It wasn’t at all sad. It was comforting. Maybe, for just a brief moment, he felt my love.
I can’t claim to know what happens after we die. My inclination is that our energy dissipates and moves on to its next form. Maybe the essence of who we were in life stays whole as other facets of our energy travel on to their next destination. I’d like for that to be true. Regardless, I *felt* my son there with me this morning. It could have been simply a trick of the mind, but whatever it was, it made me smile.
‘The heart stops briefly when someone dies, a quick pain as you hear the news, and someone passes from your outside life to inside. Slowly the heart adjusts to its new weight, and slowly, everything continues, sanely.’ — Ted Berrigan quoted in ‘Many Years from Now,’ Barry Miles’s biography of Paul McCartney.