Thank you

I bought a journal the day after Tim died. One year ago today. It was the only thing I was moved to do. I remember standing in Barnes and Noble, in a daze, scanning the wall for the right one. The most important journal I would ever have. I picked up the only one that called to me – light blue, soft leather, imprinted with flowers.  I held it in my hands. It had just the right weight to it with paper not so dense that it felt heavy. I had enough heavy in my heart.

I turned it over and inside the cellophane wrapper was a small card describing the journal: This elegant printed Italian writing journal features roses, a symbol of balance and new beginnings. Handmade in Florence, Italy.

Balance. New beginnings. And made in a city where 13 years earlier, Tim and I purchased leather journals while browsing near the Duomo. This was my very first sign from Tim. Thank you.

I have read, and also heard from my friends who are intuitive, that messages are certainly sent our way from loved ones who are no longer in the form that we knew them. However, many of us don’t notice because we aren’t willing, or we aren’t present, or we aren’t still enough. The signs started for me immediately.

I found these messages from Tim to be the greatest gifts. I saw them, heard them, felt them.  The journal was first. The pennies came next.

Two nights after Tim’s passing, I arrived home to find a penny, that had been on the closet floor for weeks, moved to the floor next to Tim’s side of the bed. I didn’t try to rationalize how or why.  I cried and said, Thank you. Over the next few months, I found pennies in various places, including in our Denver home when I arrived. One by the sink in the downstairs bathroom and one on the half wall in the living room. Solitary pennies. Nothing else. No other coins. No paperclips. No pocket fuzz. Just pennies. I later found out that this was not a unique sign, but one commonly documented as meaning you are valued by your deceased loved one. A single penny showing oneness. Thank you.

One of the many memorable messages from Tim came while my friends, Judy and Chuck, were visiting in Denver about 9 weeks after Tim’s death. I had previously purchased tickets for Tim and me to go to the Shakespeare festival in Boulder. We went the prior year and had such a lovely night, and I was excited when Romeo and Juliet came on the schedule for 2019.  Although I would have gone alone, I was able to pick up an extra ticket, and Judy and Chuck decided to plan their visit around this event.

It had been a beautiful sunny day, but we arrived in the parking area during a passing summer shower. I parked the car and Judy and I waited there, while Chuck walked in the rain to purchase a parking pass. As we sheltered in the car, the sun peaked out and the rain thinned.  Within moments, directly in front of us was a rainbow. Beginning to end. This was enough to take my breath away, but then a second one appeared behind the first. My first double rainbow. Judy and I knew right away that this was Tim. These rainbows remained with us as we made the walk to the outdoor theater. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Thank you.

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You can think what you’d like. Why would a double rainbow be just for us? There were hundreds, maybe thousands of people who could see it. How does it become my message from Tim. Fair question, and I don’t know how to explain it. It would have happened without me seeing it. But I saw it. Also, let me add this. As we entered the theater, I realized something else. The seats that I had purchased, for Tim and me, eight months earlier were seats 21 and 22. Our wedding date and Tim’s transition date. Both of which, obviously had not yet happened when I selected the tickets. Thank you.

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These messages from Tim come in many different ways.  And it’s possible, probable, that I don’t catch all of them. But when I do, sometimes I say out loud, “Bug, is that you?” And I always say, “Thank you.”