How is your life beyond the veil? What is it like? Do you think of me? Do you remember me?
I remember that night, lying on your beanbag, the $300 dog bed you called it, with Sophie. I don’t know why I did that, but it felt comfortable like you were hugging me. That’s where Sophie and I slept that first night.
You came to me, you touched my hand. You told me you had to leave, it was your time, you would visit me but you had a lot of work to do so it may be a while. I found that really odd, you had a lot of work to do. I also felt a pang of hurt, jealousy, you sounded so excited and happy, and I was in pain. That feeling passed. It made my heart happy to feel your excitement and happiness. I had to laugh, as you always had to be busy, even in the afterlife!!!
I later learned that when we pass our soul has a job to do, lots to learn. It’s been two years, eight months. I am curious, what have you learned, what work have you done?
I know you keep a watchful eye over Sophie and me. The hummingbird that hovers over my head whenever I take Sophie out to potty, is that you?
You still have your sense of humor, like that movie I watched during Christmastime, one I would NEVER have watched (you would have!!!) and the line from that obscure song you used to sing was mentioned . . there’s a place in France . . . . . I laughed!! Was that a message for me to laugh again?
I wait for you every night when I fall asleep. I remember the second time you came to visit. You were your usual teasing self. In the beginning it was like a normal workday. I am fixing coffee and breakfast and you come downstairs. At first I thought I was dreaming. You come into the kitchen. I am at the sink . You pick me up and sit me on the counter. I knew that this was not a dream. I can’t remember what you said but I could see you so clearly. You looked thin still but healthier. I asked you when you would be back for another visit and you said tomorrow. I asked you how long tomorrow was and you said three months. (I later learned that it was smart that I asked you that as your time is not linear. I had no clue!). You gave me a kiss and typical you it was on the cheek. I said goodbye and you said, I’m off to work! It was like you were leaving for work just as you always did. But this time you went out the front door. I ran out to see you leave. I could see your back and then you vanished.
The next morning when I went to the kitchen to make coffee, there was a white feather on the kitchen counter.
I continue to listen, to watch for nudges, your messages. I heard a message from you to be open to possibilities. Two other people have told me that same message from you. I am trying.
I miss you. I love you always . . . .