In the conquering of the unconquerable guilt for desiring the best life.
She’s lost in the all and her island drum, the one that travels through her writing, begs to be heard, to give the waters back their movements. She was island, the sound and the rhythm in each stanza flowed from the need to be emerged in water, and her freedom lived in her subconscious need to live on the island she called her home, Newfoundland.
My heart skipped a beat and I suddenly remembered our dreams and knew right then and there, my Mother was up in Heaven driving a brand new bright blue Mercedes.
There were a series of other miracles that now lie behind me, and here are a few of them.
In 2009 it was cancer. When I heard the dreaded “C” word, I’ll never forget how my heart took a flip. Me?
The story and the miracle of Mom’s death, called “Believe”, is the first of this series of articles about my Journey to Spirit. Following her death in 1989, the very same year I learned about Robert’s infidelity, I returned home to silent repose in double grief.
Black crosses, one by one, began to fill the empty calendar. I was waiting for word; a letter from the other side of the ocean, a whole world away.
We were soul mates; of this I was certain. Then one day he said, “I’ve decided to go on an adventure.”
We drove down the main road about eight miles into town to park by the dock for the night. Robert was out of the truck checking for damage before it came to a full stop. There were a couple of bullet holes from the rocks, but it was still intact.
It would be a wet, rainy weekend, and no one loved the antics, rain or shine, more than Robert. It was Friday, and the rain would continue throughout the night. The sound of rain to this day reminds me of this night. As daylight approached, we were snapped out of our sleep by a pounding on the door.