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.
It is still hard to this day to describe the fever I had for him. Every day we spent together, the deeper I fell into the pit of love. I knew I’d found my soul mate. There was just one small problem.
We seemed to be connected by something far more magical than love alone. We spent every waking and sleeping moment together when he was in town. We loved, and laughed, talked and giggled and journeyed deep into each other’s lives.
I was thirty six. It was July, 1987. It was an unusually warm night and I remember the sweet soft breeze that followed me around that summer like it was yesterday. Liz, a long-time family friend, invited me to join her with a couple of other friends at the annual County Fair Dance. And she wanted to show off her new guy.