Give me a sign. No, another one. How about one in flashing neon? Ok, maybe not, that’s a little bit “red light district”.
My Nan is sick. She’s not young and now she’s sick. A couple of years ago, even one year ago, she was pretty amazingly well for her age. She went out dancing and played the keyboard. No, I’m not joking! She was one cool 85 year old. Now she’s unwell. We don’t know how long she’ll be in this state, it could be years. However long it is, she has slipped into a dream world to say goodbye to parts of her life she’s lived before. Most recently, she’s been reliving being ten years old. That’s a lovely age. I can understand that. Ten is a lovely age to be. I hope she’s enjoying it.
For me, I’ve been wondering whether to make the trip just now. There are many rational reasons not to go. Many practical reasons why not. Plans I have. Money I don’t. She’s not very lucid right now. She probably won’t know me but then I was thinking, her spirit will know, even if her brain is confused. Her spirit will know if she’s surrounded by love and has permission to go when she needs to. Her spirit will know whether she’s said her goodbyes.
You know how sometimes your gut feeling is strong and clear and other times your brain is just spinning it’s wheels? I’ve been spinning my wheels quite a bit lately, so I’ve been asking for a sign. This morning I woke and wrote my journal pages, as usual. But unusually, this morning, for the first two pages I wrote about how I need to let God run the show. The third page I wrote about how I would go, now. That her spirit needs her family even if her brain is elsewhere. That I want to connect with my Nan, my relatives and my homeland. And I have my signs.
A few days ago, I read my Nan’s surname on a backpack – it’s a brand apparently. Then as the surname of an author in a book of short stories I’m reading. It’s a book about miracles and healing and God moments of all kinds. Three signs, I decided. Three seems the appropriate number. Then I read another short story, another author with that surname, albeit hyphenated. I think that counts. Add to that, opening my email today to a piece by a writer I like “Letting the Divine Take the Lead”. Shall we dance? My Nan would like that metaphor. Did I mention she’s a keen dancer?
Even with the signs, it doesn’t feel decided. I don’t know clearly what to do. I feel heavy and confused. Maybe that’s just because, right now, things aren’t quite right. Maybe I’m feeling her heavy confused energy. She’d rather be dancing or playing some music, having some fun. We like the same things. Loves and likes run in families. So does Love. It’s the only reason to go. Maybe she’d rather be dancing in the light with my Pop. He’ll be waiting for her.
miss yardley 