by Nixie 🦊
Dad's gone, and now my sister is no longer in my mind,
|When I find myself in times of trouble, cardinals come to me. Last week, one suspended itself outside my window by rhythmically flapping its wings. He looked right into the window at me, comforting and familiar.
Since my sister died in 1983, not a day has gone by without her 'being in my mind.' The experience is layered. I can reach her by thinking. Most times, she appears in my mind and the moment is so immediate the words pop from my lips. "Hi, Jude. Do you need me for something?" Her appearances often alert me. She came to me a few days before my dad died. She arrives to comfort me. Or to make me laugh.
Does anyone understand what I'm trying to convey?
She's gone. I can't explain it. Reaching out, she's nowhere. No more visitations in my mind. She's simply gone.
I'm not a religious person. My only statement about an afterlife is that energy cannot be destroyed. We are all made of energy. Maybe we're absorbed into a connective consciousness. Maybe we give life to a flower, or we enter another body.
So I'm asking you, Dad. Have you seen Jude? I don't often try to reach you or touch memories. It's a coping mechanism, I guess. I'm uncomfortable establishing this connection, which is why I'm writing it out. The times you have found me, the sensation is too strong. Overwhelming. It leaves me spinning and off balance. Like a tilted universe.
I don't believe we see our loved ones after we die. I don't believe those who passed before us are waiting to greet. Knowing all that is not stopping me from asking, Have you seen Jude?
When I find myself in times of trouble is the opening refrain of a song.