Can You Hear Us Now, Joe?
Four days after Joe and I brought Cole home from the hospital, we went to see a past life reader. The mystic was very old and somewhat famous in mystic circles, and it was not certain if he would be able to travel back to Chicago, so when we were offered an appointment we grabbed it. Over the years Joe and I visited with many different kinds of mystics. These days Cole and I usually visit an intuitive about once a year to check in with Joe. I have a feeling someday Cole is going to look at me and say, “No, Mom, I do not want to see a voodoo soothsayer mystic; I want to see a real therapist with a PhD after his name.”
Our most recent journey into the beyond took us to the doorstep of a Louise Hauck, who interprets for those that have dropped “their bodies.” When we arrived, Louise greeted us warmly and guided us into a room with three chairs, an apple computer, and a tape recorder. No candles, no Ouija board, not even a card table to lay our hands on. Louise explained the process with a great deal more eloquence than I could ever hope to, but basically, it boils down to calling Joe’s heavenly soulular phone. Our hope was that the connection would be clear enough for Louise to get the gist of what Joe wanted to tell us. Naturally, there is always some static and disconnect. The technology more closely resembles tin cans and a string as opposed to the i-Phone. Now that Steve Jobs has joined the heavenly ranks, things should improve. In any case, when Louise asked if Joe was a loud man with a hearty laugh, Cole and I knew she had connected.
The session confirmed much of what I felt and knew about Joe’s continued presence in our lives and reassured my 16 year old that his dad was still close at hand and very available to him. During the session Joe brought up the color purple. Louise wondered if I had noticed anything purple around me or to the side of me. I hadn’t. She told me to be on the lookout for something purple that would show up in our lives. Our time with Joe and Louise ended, and we parted with sweet sorrow.
On Sunday, Mother’s Day, I let my pups out and turned towards the very fragrant smell of my lilac bushes and immediately noticed that a large purple flower had burst into bloom.
(Click on the flower to bring it into focus)
I did not plant the flower, and it had never bloomed before. In fact, I have no idea what kind of flower it is — perhaps an iris or a lily? Joe and Cole always bought me flowers on Mother’s Day, but for my first Mother’s Day, Joe bought me a bunch of purple gladioli.
When I showed the flower to Cole, he laughed and said, “We can hear you now, Dad.”
Tonight we are experiencing a storm, which makes me want to run out and protect my flower from the rain and wind. But I think I will let it weather the storm and continue to tell its own story.
Odd Loves Company,
P.S. The Iris made it through the storm and what a story it had to tell….CLick here for the follow up post