I’m still wondering where we go when we die. While I don’t believe in one ‘true’ religion, I do believe in science and physics and the reality is, we are energy, and as Albert Einstein famously quoted, “Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.” And so, I recently had a turning point in my faith in life after death.
I took my restless Boston Terrier for a much needed sunny stroll by the ocean at Rathtrevor Beach, my favourite place on earth. Ocean, forests, sand, sky—what’s not to love? After five days of rain and cloud, it didn’t disappoint. The tide was out so I could unleash the hound and she could chase her ball to her heart’s content, and inhale a bucketful of sand in the process. Ah, the ocean—a magical, healing place.
I thought about why I cherish forests and oceans. Indeed, nature lacks ego—it just is: the quiet strength of the trees; the healing negative ions of the ocean; the abundance of critters everywhere. It’s life at its most gentle, authentic, and spectacular.
Lily and I came to a bench that wasn’t occupied by the many other nature-lovers out and about, and happened to be placed in front of waves crashing ashore, a soothing sound I love. Only after sitting down did I glance to my right and notice a bouquet of flowers set upright between the slats of the bench. Upon closer inspection, I saw the flowers were wrapped in red paper, with red carnations inside.
My Mom just died and her favourite colour was red. Her favourite flowers were carnations—red ones. I instantly realized my departed Mom had just sent me flowers.
Now you can say that it was just a coincidence, that deceased people can’t send flowers, and that you can read meaning into anything. Or you can just think I’m grief-stricken, or crazy. No matter–I’m naturally skeptical too.
But—I’ve never in my 49 years stumbled across a brand new bouquet of flowers on a park bench. They could’ve been any other type or colour of flower, placed on any other bench. But someone left them there for me, for a reason. I chose to believe my Mom ‘arranged’ either for someone to forget them or leave them there in memory of someone else.
But wait; there’s more to the story. I wrote in my Mom’s eulogy the story about how she raised a neighbour’s runt pig on Carnation milk – and named that pig Carnation. So put that in your doubting pipe and smoke it.
I wasn’t going to take that bouquet of flowers. After all, they weren’t mine; or, were they? If I believed my Mom sent them to me, then they were. And I’d overdressed for cooler weather, and happened to have a very large scarf with me that I’d taken off. I smiled and happily wrapped that bouquet of flowers inside my scarf and they came back home with me.
Mom has left me other messages since she left her pain body behind, and for that, I am most grateful. She lives on, just not in the way I was attached to her. I know Mom’s soul energy is out there sending me messages, not only because I’m looking for them. But because I believe we are all connected, even beyond death, when we eventually say goodbye to the body, mind, and heart.
And now I know Mom is free, and her spirit still carries her great sense of humour. Thank You Mom, for my flowers.
“You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop.” Rumi
Author’s Note: Please find another published article on grief on my Links page. May it be of help.