It's been so cold here in the Pacific Northwest the past few days. I'm ready for this polar vortex to go and hang out somewhere else. I love ya, Canadians, but you can have it back.
So I spent most of the day indoors (being thankful for my furnace), writing, listening to music, and reflecting on just being present in the moment. Sunday is usually a tough day for me because it commemorates the day my son passed away. I'm not going to lie; it's been hard to accept, but accept I must in order to heal.
Which leads me to how he sends me messages; signs and symbols. Like dragonflies, peacock feathers, (there are no peacocks that I know of around here, but I found one on the street as I took my walk one morning). Imagine that! Thanks, son.
And Van Morrison songs. This one came on as I was doing the final edit on the book I'm writing about my son. My jaw dropped and the tears fell ... uncontrollably.
Sometimes it's a song with a lyric like "close to the one" in Hymns to the Silence:
I'll always miss the conversations my son and I will never get to have, but I know we will again someday in another lifetime. For now, I'll have to be grateful for the messages I'm getting while I'm still here.
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