Miracles of June 8th

Miracles.

As I was driving on the single car lane of tree studded Memorial drive, paying attention to the road and the audio tape of “My Big Toe”, a tree branch over 2m long, with smaller branches hanging off of it, gently as a feather, flew off a tree onto the road in front of me. It was a beautiful synchronization of the branch and my car taking space on the same piece of the road seconds apart, choreographed to just enter the same space without any competition, without any clash. A millisecond difference could have meant that the tree branch would have landed either on my windshield, or the sunroof, followed by expected panic, pressing on brakes and possible collision with an oncoming car. Many possibilities.

Instead, it looked as if someone, slowly in a floating sort of way and at the same time quickly, moved the branch to the ground a few feet away, just in time for me to continue driving. An instant later, as I continued driving as there was no spot to pull over, and as I realized I possibly avoided an unforeseen accident, I turned off the radio and thanked my husband for protecting me. Then I also thanked my mother and father, my spirit guides, guardian angels, higher self and whatever else you may believe could orchestrate this swift move. Thank you whoever and whatever you are that protected me. I was somewhat not surprised at all by this and knew that I was meant to be safe at that moment in time. Don’t know why.

I was earlier at the dentist’s office having a crown pulled out to be replaced by a permanent one. They told me to watch out for any pain and if there were any, the dentist would administer Novocaine before they continued. Normally, I would have anticipated when the pain would start and in my mind rehearse how I would raise my hand to stop them from going any further to inflict more pain so they could rush the novocaine. Instead, I just thought “it is what it is”. She pulled out the crown with such ease that she was surprised. I couldn’t decide whether I should be surprised at all.

On the way back, as I was driving, I stopped at the traffic lights near a pond where friends and we went swimming, a couple of summers ago. I was expecting an email from someone, so quickly checked my email. In my Inbox was a message from one of the friends who was with us swimming at the pond that day. Synchronicity.

I stopped at the store, picked up vibrant canary yellow calla lilies for Hervé’s grave. I was also looking forward to watering the two pots of pansies which have been growing and growing for the last couple of months. The pansies have been continuously blooming in their beautiful purples and yellows. It has been a small solace to get there every few days to water them, to nurture life to something at his grave site. To my initial disappointment, the flower pots were not there. But half a dozen garden keepers were working right nearby, to prepare a new arrival’s grave, another neighbor. The men told me that it is the policy of the cemetery to remove everything around this time of the year. They were a respectful bunch, completely stopping their work to allow me to move through my grief and solace at once as I put the lilies in the vase of the grave. Here I was. Looking at an empty space where the pansy pots left behind, a visible dirt around the growing grass everywhere else. Reminding me once more that it is time to perhaps visit the tombstone shop and get his stone to mark his place in this cemetery, to mark his place in this physical reality.

The pansies were gone. They served their purpose. They gave meaning by allowing me to water and grow life above the ground of my deceased loved one’s remains. Now, bright yellow lilies, ready to take flight like little canaries. Next week, some other flower to give another message. In this moment in time, I am here; dear Hervé, You are where You are; and It Is What Is.
Love, Peace, Gratitude.

Yasemin