An undeniable sign! I love this, Megan. I gasped when you found the lightning.
Can we all share the visits we've received from beyond in the comments? Two of mine : after my mom's best friend died, the side of her couch he would always sit on inexplicably started to concave, like he was still sitting there. And after my Dad died - twice, my iPhone lit up with a notification I'd never seen before. "Check in with Dad", which prompted me to send him my Google maps location. My Dad LOVED to have my maps location, and I shared it with him only on special occasions.
Thank you for sharing your grief so honestly, Megan. I find it to be the best salve - how the grieving reach for one another.
Love this Annalise 💜 my favorite sign (there have been quite a few) was about 3 years after my cousin died. I had just moved to Hawaii and I was alone because Jonny was in a course in Arizona for four months. I was watching a docuseries about death and one of the episodes was about signs and i got really angry because i felt like I hadn't had any, and all these people were talking about butterflies (no offense if butterflies are your sign, readers, i was in my grief anger lol) and i screamed in my empty house "fucking butterflies?! So obvious. Send me a caterpillar." Like, what about the wormy, immature, creepy crawly things that will never be on the memorial program? What about the things that means there's more to life after dying one kind of death? What about the thing that means I'm still fucking here in this body even though you've gotten wings? And once the show ended, i went upstairs to get ready for bed, went into the master bathroom, which had no windows, was inside the bedroom, whose windows had screens and were closed besides... Turned on the light and in the middle of the floor was the biggest, fattest, greenest caterpillar I've ever seen.... In the middle of the night in the central point of the second story of a house with screens on every window. I never saw the same kind again the three years i lived in Hawaii.
When my grandpa died, my grandma moved into the guest room. Sometime later she found a Tennessee state quarter on the floor on my grandpa's side of their bed in the master bedroom. No one had been in the room, but Tennessee is where they had traveled from Chicago to marry 50+ years before.
Two years ago my grandmother passed and that night I had plans to go to a music bingo night with two friends. I spoke with my mom and wasn’t going to attend but she reminded me how much my grandmother loved to play bingo. So I went, somehow out of the four or five rounds I won twice. The man running the event said in all his years he’s never had anyone win twice in the same night. As the night progressed I filled all my song squares except for one. The last song was titled “someone you love”. I sobbed, it was like she was right there beside me helping me win. I miss her everyday but know she is with me in all I do.
A few weeks ago I was doubting my faith a little, wondering if I’m making all this spirituality up, thinking maybe my mom hasn’t been guiding me all this time (I lost her when I was 14), maybe this “spirit guide” is just a construct I made up to cope… and then a few minutes later the door to my son’s room slammed shut while I was reading to him.
It’s hard to see the wonder in this, like Meg said, but my husband and I were in the room with him, no open windows or draft, not a door that slams itself.
They have a way of showing you just enough for you to know it was them…undeniably them, but it’s kind of like a secret. It’s *just* earthly enough to not be impossible.
About two weeks after my partner died of suicide, I was walking through our back pasture with our dog- sobbing, lonely, and upset- while talking out loud to my lost love. I asked for a sign, I asked him to show me a four leaf clover if he was still around. I took just a few steps and immediately found a perfect four leaf clover. I couldn't believe it-I'd never found one on the property prior to that moment. Over the next few years I found over 50 four leaf clovers... everywhere! In sidewalk cracks, in parking lots, in our fields. I had an acquaintance send me one preserved in tape from a special place theyd visited (without knowing about my "sign"!) Even better, I'd shared my experience with my loves best friend- and then he started finding them too! Growing in a pot on his back porch, in someone's yard while picking up dog poo (😂), everywhere! We'd send out our finds in a group chat. It was beautiful. What a sign indeed. They're out there, always.
My dad has been dead almost 20 years, there are so so many messages he's sent me. A favorite was on the 1st anniversary of his death, I went away for a weekend...a B&B...just did not want to be home without him. Upon arrival, I noted a framed painting of a German Shepherd (the owner's old dog) and my room faced a butterfly bush that had countless monarchs (my dad's and my shared FAV butterfly). He also sends me music... ⚘️
When my grandpa knew he was dying of cancer he asked if I wanted to buy his car (my grandmother didn’t drive.) I agreed, and that little grey Ford Focus became mine. A couple of years later I was driving it home from work when someone ran a stop sign and smashed into me. I was fine, but the car was totalled. My partner went on auto trader to find a replacement, and there was a listing for a grey Ford Focus that a guy was selling on behalf of his uncle who had recently died. The price was the EXACT amount of our insurance payout, same mileage on the car as when I’d bought the other Focus from my grandpa, and…had the same umbrella in the backseat that my grandpa had.
A few weeks before my mum died she received as Christmas card from her sister with a robin on it. I showed her and he she angrily snapped that she hates robins (could have been the cancer brain or some secretly held belief I never knew about)… the day after she died her family started seeing robins everywhere and they were saying it must be a sign because Donna LOVED robins. Our family shared a dark sense of humour so I told only my sister (and only her) of mum’s reaction to the Christmas card and we laughed and moved on. A few days later packing down her house we realised that the Christmas decorations we had bought her had robins all over them and we laughed again, so much. Then the real magic happened, every day for about a month from then on a robin sat perched in my garden. I had never noticed a robin sit my garden before. It was there every morning I came down for breakfast, keeping watch. It would turn to look directly at me for a few moments every time. I laughed at not knowing whether my mum had been reincarnated as the thing she supposedly and confusingly seemed to have such disgust with (which would be just her luck) or thinking maybe she was telling me she was now in on the joke.
Months later, a butterfly was trapped in our house. My partner said it was a red admiral and how rare they were to see, especially in London. It sparked a memory. Months before mum died she said if she could send a sign to us after our death what would it be? I said a red butterfly off the cuff, in part cause I had never seen one and didn’t know they even existed (my sister said the lottery numbers, which on reflection was a better shout). I looked at the butterfly and it didn’t look all that red to me (mostly black with small strips of what actually seemed orange). So a little doubt creeped in whether this was actually a sign. A week later I go into my garden and there were red admirals EVERYWHERE. The reddest of red and covering their whole wings. She always had the flare for the dramatic!
Now we’re just hoping for my sister’s sign to come through!
How joyous for you Meg…I so wanted there to be a bolt of Andrea somewhere for you when you said the painting was titled Approaching Thunderstorm. What a delight to see the closeup and know there was lightning just for you. Couldn’t love this more🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
Yearly, just after my sister and niece died in a house fire where we spent every summer of our lives, just around the beginning of the year on the “bring in the new year with a pre-spring clean” , small items belonging to my niece would tumble out of the sheets (which had been washed many dozens of times) or fall out of strange places….a sock, a building block, a small article of clothing….
Another time, after there had been no visit in January, i was heading to our cottage and the place of the tragic fire, I was filling my car with gas, feeling tired and defeated in the face of my grief….i stepped out of the driver’s seat, pumped gas, walked past the driver’s side, and paid….and when i came out…right beside the drivers seat door a small plastic otter sitting right there.
On the day of the fire, i rushed to our summer home….and as i moved away from the police, fire, ambulance and devastation to sit beside the glimmering lake….i clearly heard my 3 year old niece in her little sing song voice….”look at me auntie, look at me, I’m dancing”….her words were coming from the sunlight on the crests of waves.
So many other visits…..too many to mention.
I LOVE< LOVE< LOVE Megan’s visit from Andrea…..it lifts my spirit in such a gentle way.
My husband's dad was an auto mechanic. A couple of months after he died, my husband, a field ecologist, was out in the boonies and his truck wouldn't start. He tried everything he knew and started thinking he'd be spending the night out there. Then he said said "Come on, PA, help me out!" He turned the ignition one final time and BRRROOOM! It started!
A couple of decades later, I was headed into a big home improvement store. I saw a beat up landscapers' truck with several men huddled around the open hood. They were trying to no avail to start it. About 20 minutes later, when I came out of the store, they were still there trying. I said softly "Come on, PA, help them out!" BRRROOOM! I only wish I had asked BEFORE I went into the store!
After my dad died, we had to move my mom into assisted living due to her dementia. She was adamant that we were NOT to take away her keys to her car. On the 6 hour drive from her home of 57 years to her new home close to my sister and me, the check engine light came on in her car. The car made the drive fine and my sister took it in to be repaired the day after arriving in Mom’s new home. It took two weeks for it to be repaired. The first week was tough as she thought we were trying to keep her from driving, but we could remind her of the check engine light and show her emails with the repair shop. By the time we got the car back, she had decided the traffic was too much for her to try to drive in. I’ve always felt that check engine light was a gift to my sister and me from our dad.
My grandpa passed the summer before I started college. Around January that year, I went to a research presentation from a professor and was considering reaching out to talk with her about her career. One night, I got pretty close to sending an email, but almost talked myself out of it. I decided to read one article about her work in the school newspaper. I read the entire article and at the very end it had the name of the author: the exact same name as my grandpa - Rick Peterson. Not even something super super common. I was shocked and I immediately knew I had to send the email. I met up with her a week later and she offered me a summer job on the spot and said she never did that for freshmen. Truly opening doors and an entirely different life trajectory for me from beyond.
My grandmother died a few months ago. Everyone else from the family had gone to see her but I'd been ill so was the last. I'd been with her for about 40 mins (the others had gone to eat) when she died quite suddenly. I remember looking at her straight afterwards and asking where did you go? The essence of you, your soul? Not long after I was walking in the Brecon Beacons in Wales with two friends and the whole 18 km a crow hovered, swooped close, landed near by and I felt certain it was her checking in. The day after I got home I took my kids swimming to an outdoor pool and again, a crow landed right by us, looking at me. I am convinced she was checking I was ok after being there at the end, and was telling me she was ok. I look at every crow differently now, just in case.
My dear friend Barbara passed away about 6 years ago. Before she died I asked her how she would visit me because her leaving was so unbearable. She told me she loved cardinals and would come in a cardinal. A few days after she died, a pair of cardinals took up residence on our deck and visited each morning for a week or so. It was so comforting!
This translates more than you know, Meg. As I watch my love slowly succumb to cancer, I find myself looking for hope in similar ways. In fact, we look for signs together even now—a butterfly nearby, a dog in the park that curiously wants to stay close, or a cloud formation in the sky as we enjoy dock time on our beloved Anstruther Lake. We find these signs now, so that when he is gone, I’ll know to look for him in these little things.
May you continue to find pieces of Andrea in the small moments of everyday life. Sending hugs from Toronto.
Meg - You are part of the ongoing miracle we all need so deeply and desperately right now. Thank you for continuing to make yourself available to Love and Life and the Universe's petitions to you. To Andrea's continued presence. Thank you for throwing all caution to the wind and letting yourself feel and believe all of this. It all just IS, and it is all so true. Your big heart and words are a gift in which I wrap myself over and over. I hold you close, as do so many. I hope you can keep feeling yourself held as we all need to hold each other in these wild and tumultuous times. Big hearts excite and unite in the magic.
awe, wow. this is exactly how i feel each time i'm graced with Meg's words. "You are part of the ongoing miracle we all need so deeply and desperately right now." perfect. thank you for sharing your words. 💖
i am loving every post you write. reading them more eagerly than when andrea wrote them. i don't know what that is except that the way you speak to grief and love and magic and beauty makes me believe more deeply in all of it.
Same. I didn’t always read all of Andrea’s posts - I’m not sure why, because I loved their words - but maybe I didn’t have enough room for all the love of the world. But I’m saving and making time for Meg’s, because I know that one day I will probably also feel this kind of grief and I need the guide. Thank you, Meg, for sharing. Our hearts break with yours.
It is astonishing, Meg. Once we know, we feel the initial scream too.
Before we could relate, maybe we did nod along to our friend happy for their comfort. But now, I know. And every single time, it’s astonishing. Savor it and stay open for the next. It comes easier when we don’t attach a need. Thank you for allowing us to be connected to you and Andrea, formless.
Translation received. My son passed away 2 1/2 years ago of melanoma. He was my oldest and my heart, as all my children are. He was a HUGE sports fan and for some reason claimed the Philadelphia teams as his own. I wanted to take him to Philly for his 30th birthday, and we never got there. The Flyers, the hockey team for Philly, had the weirdest mascot ever. It was an orange type of character - like a muppet. I used to tease Joe about how silly and dumb the mascot was because it did not represent anything. Before Joe had died, I moved to an apartment, leaving our family home. After he died, about 2=-3 months later, in my new apartment, I received a Sports Illustrated Kids magazine in the mail. The orange Flyers mascot was on the cover. I have never ordered Sports Illustrated or the kids' magazine - ever in my life. This magazine was addressed to me and sent to my new address. I still have it - I know it was Joe letting me know that he is OK wherever he is. I look for signs daily. It doesn't take away the heart or the fact that I miss him, but it does give me a sense that maybe I will join him one day and that he is really not that far from me at all.
Yes!! Yes, It definitely translates. You walked us beautifully through the whole experience. The grief, the longing for a sign, the wanting to believe it, the doubting it and then the big reveal! Yes a million times yes, that was them!
I have also had the experience of communication through electricity and see the kindness in people's eyes when they hear me and nod. So I'm jumping up and down with you! Yes, yes!
This is so beautiful. ⚡️ My friends and I hosted a memorial for folks in our community to honor Andrea after their passing. It was supposed to rain but it held off throughout the event. We did a flower release at the end - as we all stood there, seconds before dropping the flowers into the water, a streak of lighting hit the sky. We were all stunned and felt like they were there with us. Afterwards, we noticed a double rainbow landing right where the flowers were heading. It was everything. I still have goosebumps.
When my grandmother - my second mother, the woman who raised me too - was slowly on her way to the next, I called every day for months just to talk for a few minutes. I live in the desert, somewhere she'd never been, so she always asked about the weather. It would be cold, snowing, in the northeast where she was and in the sixties, sunny and brown here in the Mojave. I told her almost every time that I would give positively anything for it to snow. How i missed it, being two years since I'd seen any, and how lucky she was. It always made her giggle.
Three weeks after she passed, on a particularly hard day of missing her, I looked out the window and there it was - big, white snowflakes! for a whole 20 minutes! phew, I cried and I cried, because I knew it was Nan, granting my wish, and telling me that we were gonna be okay.
This translated completely, Meg. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. 💙
Thank you for sharing this. I think it's so important to give ourselves permission to trust that these communications are real. My dad communicated to me so much in the months after he left his body (and still sometimes). You knew - your body knew - it was real because your spirit recognizes that truth. Hang onto that. You might want to document all of these signs and communications for the moments when the doubt creeps back. I wish I had been better about that with my dad.
In this painting, I also see two people. One is rowing away, while the other watches them leave from the shore. Crossing water is a common metaphor for entering the land of spirit. And the dog.
I'm so happy you are able to feel their continued presence.
Thank you for this, I understand the journey you are on. I,also lost the love of my life to cancer in 2015. You will learn in time to live with the loss. The hole in your heart will be empty forever. The grief stays the same, we just learn to live a different life always cognizant that something is missing. I am so sorry you lost Andrea. I’m sending healing energy to help you through this day.
An undeniable sign! I love this, Megan. I gasped when you found the lightning.
Can we all share the visits we've received from beyond in the comments? Two of mine : after my mom's best friend died, the side of her couch he would always sit on inexplicably started to concave, like he was still sitting there. And after my Dad died - twice, my iPhone lit up with a notification I'd never seen before. "Check in with Dad", which prompted me to send him my Google maps location. My Dad LOVED to have my maps location, and I shared it with him only on special occasions.
Thank you for sharing your grief so honestly, Megan. I find it to be the best salve - how the grieving reach for one another.
Love this Annalise 💜 my favorite sign (there have been quite a few) was about 3 years after my cousin died. I had just moved to Hawaii and I was alone because Jonny was in a course in Arizona for four months. I was watching a docuseries about death and one of the episodes was about signs and i got really angry because i felt like I hadn't had any, and all these people were talking about butterflies (no offense if butterflies are your sign, readers, i was in my grief anger lol) and i screamed in my empty house "fucking butterflies?! So obvious. Send me a caterpillar." Like, what about the wormy, immature, creepy crawly things that will never be on the memorial program? What about the things that means there's more to life after dying one kind of death? What about the thing that means I'm still fucking here in this body even though you've gotten wings? And once the show ended, i went upstairs to get ready for bed, went into the master bathroom, which had no windows, was inside the bedroom, whose windows had screens and were closed besides... Turned on the light and in the middle of the floor was the biggest, fattest, greenest caterpillar I've ever seen.... In the middle of the night in the central point of the second story of a house with screens on every window. I never saw the same kind again the three years i lived in Hawaii.
I LOVE this story!
When my grandpa died, my grandma moved into the guest room. Sometime later she found a Tennessee state quarter on the floor on my grandpa's side of their bed in the master bedroom. No one had been in the room, but Tennessee is where they had traveled from Chicago to marry 50+ years before.
Two years ago my grandmother passed and that night I had plans to go to a music bingo night with two friends. I spoke with my mom and wasn’t going to attend but she reminded me how much my grandmother loved to play bingo. So I went, somehow out of the four or five rounds I won twice. The man running the event said in all his years he’s never had anyone win twice in the same night. As the night progressed I filled all my song squares except for one. The last song was titled “someone you love”. I sobbed, it was like she was right there beside me helping me win. I miss her everyday but know she is with me in all I do.
A few weeks ago I was doubting my faith a little, wondering if I’m making all this spirituality up, thinking maybe my mom hasn’t been guiding me all this time (I lost her when I was 14), maybe this “spirit guide” is just a construct I made up to cope… and then a few minutes later the door to my son’s room slammed shut while I was reading to him.
It’s hard to see the wonder in this, like Meg said, but my husband and I were in the room with him, no open windows or draft, not a door that slams itself.
They have a way of showing you just enough for you to know it was them…undeniably them, but it’s kind of like a secret. It’s *just* earthly enough to not be impossible.
About two weeks after my partner died of suicide, I was walking through our back pasture with our dog- sobbing, lonely, and upset- while talking out loud to my lost love. I asked for a sign, I asked him to show me a four leaf clover if he was still around. I took just a few steps and immediately found a perfect four leaf clover. I couldn't believe it-I'd never found one on the property prior to that moment. Over the next few years I found over 50 four leaf clovers... everywhere! In sidewalk cracks, in parking lots, in our fields. I had an acquaintance send me one preserved in tape from a special place theyd visited (without knowing about my "sign"!) Even better, I'd shared my experience with my loves best friend- and then he started finding them too! Growing in a pot on his back porch, in someone's yard while picking up dog poo (😂), everywhere! We'd send out our finds in a group chat. It was beautiful. What a sign indeed. They're out there, always.
My dad has been dead almost 20 years, there are so so many messages he's sent me. A favorite was on the 1st anniversary of his death, I went away for a weekend...a B&B...just did not want to be home without him. Upon arrival, I noted a framed painting of a German Shepherd (the owner's old dog) and my room faced a butterfly bush that had countless monarchs (my dad's and my shared FAV butterfly). He also sends me music... ⚘️
When my grandpa knew he was dying of cancer he asked if I wanted to buy his car (my grandmother didn’t drive.) I agreed, and that little grey Ford Focus became mine. A couple of years later I was driving it home from work when someone ran a stop sign and smashed into me. I was fine, but the car was totalled. My partner went on auto trader to find a replacement, and there was a listing for a grey Ford Focus that a guy was selling on behalf of his uncle who had recently died. The price was the EXACT amount of our insurance payout, same mileage on the car as when I’d bought the other Focus from my grandpa, and…had the same umbrella in the backseat that my grandpa had.
wow!
A few weeks before my mum died she received as Christmas card from her sister with a robin on it. I showed her and he she angrily snapped that she hates robins (could have been the cancer brain or some secretly held belief I never knew about)… the day after she died her family started seeing robins everywhere and they were saying it must be a sign because Donna LOVED robins. Our family shared a dark sense of humour so I told only my sister (and only her) of mum’s reaction to the Christmas card and we laughed and moved on. A few days later packing down her house we realised that the Christmas decorations we had bought her had robins all over them and we laughed again, so much. Then the real magic happened, every day for about a month from then on a robin sat perched in my garden. I had never noticed a robin sit my garden before. It was there every morning I came down for breakfast, keeping watch. It would turn to look directly at me for a few moments every time. I laughed at not knowing whether my mum had been reincarnated as the thing she supposedly and confusingly seemed to have such disgust with (which would be just her luck) or thinking maybe she was telling me she was now in on the joke.
Months later, a butterfly was trapped in our house. My partner said it was a red admiral and how rare they were to see, especially in London. It sparked a memory. Months before mum died she said if she could send a sign to us after our death what would it be? I said a red butterfly off the cuff, in part cause I had never seen one and didn’t know they even existed (my sister said the lottery numbers, which on reflection was a better shout). I looked at the butterfly and it didn’t look all that red to me (mostly black with small strips of what actually seemed orange). So a little doubt creeped in whether this was actually a sign. A week later I go into my garden and there were red admirals EVERYWHERE. The reddest of red and covering their whole wings. She always had the flare for the dramatic!
Now we’re just hoping for my sister’s sign to come through!
How joyous for you Meg…I so wanted there to be a bolt of Andrea somewhere for you when you said the painting was titled Approaching Thunderstorm. What a delight to see the closeup and know there was lightning just for you. Couldn’t love this more🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
Yearly, just after my sister and niece died in a house fire where we spent every summer of our lives, just around the beginning of the year on the “bring in the new year with a pre-spring clean” , small items belonging to my niece would tumble out of the sheets (which had been washed many dozens of times) or fall out of strange places….a sock, a building block, a small article of clothing….
Another time, after there had been no visit in January, i was heading to our cottage and the place of the tragic fire, I was filling my car with gas, feeling tired and defeated in the face of my grief….i stepped out of the driver’s seat, pumped gas, walked past the driver’s side, and paid….and when i came out…right beside the drivers seat door a small plastic otter sitting right there.
On the day of the fire, i rushed to our summer home….and as i moved away from the police, fire, ambulance and devastation to sit beside the glimmering lake….i clearly heard my 3 year old niece in her little sing song voice….”look at me auntie, look at me, I’m dancing”….her words were coming from the sunlight on the crests of waves.
So many other visits…..too many to mention.
I LOVE< LOVE< LOVE Megan’s visit from Andrea…..it lifts my spirit in such a gentle way.
My husband's dad was an auto mechanic. A couple of months after he died, my husband, a field ecologist, was out in the boonies and his truck wouldn't start. He tried everything he knew and started thinking he'd be spending the night out there. Then he said said "Come on, PA, help me out!" He turned the ignition one final time and BRRROOOM! It started!
A couple of decades later, I was headed into a big home improvement store. I saw a beat up landscapers' truck with several men huddled around the open hood. They were trying to no avail to start it. About 20 minutes later, when I came out of the store, they were still there trying. I said softly "Come on, PA, help them out!" BRRROOOM! I only wish I had asked BEFORE I went into the store!
After my dad died, we had to move my mom into assisted living due to her dementia. She was adamant that we were NOT to take away her keys to her car. On the 6 hour drive from her home of 57 years to her new home close to my sister and me, the check engine light came on in her car. The car made the drive fine and my sister took it in to be repaired the day after arriving in Mom’s new home. It took two weeks for it to be repaired. The first week was tough as she thought we were trying to keep her from driving, but we could remind her of the check engine light and show her emails with the repair shop. By the time we got the car back, she had decided the traffic was too much for her to try to drive in. I’ve always felt that check engine light was a gift to my sister and me from our dad.
My grandpa passed the summer before I started college. Around January that year, I went to a research presentation from a professor and was considering reaching out to talk with her about her career. One night, I got pretty close to sending an email, but almost talked myself out of it. I decided to read one article about her work in the school newspaper. I read the entire article and at the very end it had the name of the author: the exact same name as my grandpa - Rick Peterson. Not even something super super common. I was shocked and I immediately knew I had to send the email. I met up with her a week later and she offered me a summer job on the spot and said she never did that for freshmen. Truly opening doors and an entirely different life trajectory for me from beyond.
My grandmother died a few months ago. Everyone else from the family had gone to see her but I'd been ill so was the last. I'd been with her for about 40 mins (the others had gone to eat) when she died quite suddenly. I remember looking at her straight afterwards and asking where did you go? The essence of you, your soul? Not long after I was walking in the Brecon Beacons in Wales with two friends and the whole 18 km a crow hovered, swooped close, landed near by and I felt certain it was her checking in. The day after I got home I took my kids swimming to an outdoor pool and again, a crow landed right by us, looking at me. I am convinced she was checking I was ok after being there at the end, and was telling me she was ok. I look at every crow differently now, just in case.
My dear friend Barbara passed away about 6 years ago. Before she died I asked her how she would visit me because her leaving was so unbearable. She told me she loved cardinals and would come in a cardinal. A few days after she died, a pair of cardinals took up residence on our deck and visited each morning for a week or so. It was so comforting!
💚💚💚
What a stunningly graceful writer you are. And yes, it translated absolutely.
Ditto! ❤️
This translates more than you know, Meg. As I watch my love slowly succumb to cancer, I find myself looking for hope in similar ways. In fact, we look for signs together even now—a butterfly nearby, a dog in the park that curiously wants to stay close, or a cloud formation in the sky as we enjoy dock time on our beloved Anstruther Lake. We find these signs now, so that when he is gone, I’ll know to look for him in these little things.
May you continue to find pieces of Andrea in the small moments of everyday life. Sending hugs from Toronto.
Sending a hug and blessings to you and your love. 💕
Sending you love and strength💜
Thank you, Helen.
Ah, it's a heartbreaking but sacred time. I have been there. Much love to you both.
❤️
Sending love to you and how wonderful you are connecting about the signs now. 🙏🏼
Thank you, Lauren.
❤️
“Of course this is how we communicate now, I thought. Art.” How beautiful. ♥️♥️♥️
Meg - You are part of the ongoing miracle we all need so deeply and desperately right now. Thank you for continuing to make yourself available to Love and Life and the Universe's petitions to you. To Andrea's continued presence. Thank you for throwing all caution to the wind and letting yourself feel and believe all of this. It all just IS, and it is all so true. Your big heart and words are a gift in which I wrap myself over and over. I hold you close, as do so many. I hope you can keep feeling yourself held as we all need to hold each other in these wild and tumultuous times. Big hearts excite and unite in the magic.
awe, wow. this is exactly how i feel each time i'm graced with Meg's words. "You are part of the ongoing miracle we all need so deeply and desperately right now." perfect. thank you for sharing your words. 💖
i am loving every post you write. reading them more eagerly than when andrea wrote them. i don't know what that is except that the way you speak to grief and love and magic and beauty makes me believe more deeply in all of it.
Same. I didn’t always read all of Andrea’s posts - I’m not sure why, because I loved their words - but maybe I didn’t have enough room for all the love of the world. But I’m saving and making time for Meg’s, because I know that one day I will probably also feel this kind of grief and I need the guide. Thank you, Meg, for sharing. Our hearts break with yours.
This is absolutely stunning Megan. Your generosity in your grief fills me with awe and gratitude.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
It is astonishing, Meg. Once we know, we feel the initial scream too.
Before we could relate, maybe we did nod along to our friend happy for their comfort. But now, I know. And every single time, it’s astonishing. Savor it and stay open for the next. It comes easier when we don’t attach a need. Thank you for allowing us to be connected to you and Andrea, formless.
Translation received. My son passed away 2 1/2 years ago of melanoma. He was my oldest and my heart, as all my children are. He was a HUGE sports fan and for some reason claimed the Philadelphia teams as his own. I wanted to take him to Philly for his 30th birthday, and we never got there. The Flyers, the hockey team for Philly, had the weirdest mascot ever. It was an orange type of character - like a muppet. I used to tease Joe about how silly and dumb the mascot was because it did not represent anything. Before Joe had died, I moved to an apartment, leaving our family home. After he died, about 2=-3 months later, in my new apartment, I received a Sports Illustrated Kids magazine in the mail. The orange Flyers mascot was on the cover. I have never ordered Sports Illustrated or the kids' magazine - ever in my life. This magazine was addressed to me and sent to my new address. I still have it - I know it was Joe letting me know that he is OK wherever he is. I look for signs daily. It doesn't take away the heart or the fact that I miss him, but it does give me a sense that maybe I will join him one day and that he is really not that far from me at all.
He is not far ♥️ how wonderful.
Yes!! Yes, It definitely translates. You walked us beautifully through the whole experience. The grief, the longing for a sign, the wanting to believe it, the doubting it and then the big reveal! Yes a million times yes, that was them!
I have also had the experience of communication through electricity and see the kindness in people's eyes when they hear me and nod. So I'm jumping up and down with you! Yes, yes!
This is so beautiful. ⚡️ My friends and I hosted a memorial for folks in our community to honor Andrea after their passing. It was supposed to rain but it held off throughout the event. We did a flower release at the end - as we all stood there, seconds before dropping the flowers into the water, a streak of lighting hit the sky. We were all stunned and felt like they were there with us. Afterwards, we noticed a double rainbow landing right where the flowers were heading. It was everything. I still have goosebumps.
That’s amazing. I love it. Goosebumps over here, too. Thank you for sharing this.
When my grandmother - my second mother, the woman who raised me too - was slowly on her way to the next, I called every day for months just to talk for a few minutes. I live in the desert, somewhere she'd never been, so she always asked about the weather. It would be cold, snowing, in the northeast where she was and in the sixties, sunny and brown here in the Mojave. I told her almost every time that I would give positively anything for it to snow. How i missed it, being two years since I'd seen any, and how lucky she was. It always made her giggle.
Three weeks after she passed, on a particularly hard day of missing her, I looked out the window and there it was - big, white snowflakes! for a whole 20 minutes! phew, I cried and I cried, because I knew it was Nan, granting my wish, and telling me that we were gonna be okay.
This translated completely, Meg. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. 💙
goosebumps
Yes. At least a thousand of them.
Same ⚡
Also noting the little dog in this painting and the love you shared for your fur-kids.
That was the first thing I noticed!
Thank you for sharing this. I think it's so important to give ourselves permission to trust that these communications are real. My dad communicated to me so much in the months after he left his body (and still sometimes). You knew - your body knew - it was real because your spirit recognizes that truth. Hang onto that. You might want to document all of these signs and communications for the moments when the doubt creeps back. I wish I had been better about that with my dad.
In this painting, I also see two people. One is rowing away, while the other watches them leave from the shore. Crossing water is a common metaphor for entering the land of spirit. And the dog.
I'm so happy you are able to feel their continued presence.
Thank you for this, I understand the journey you are on. I,also lost the love of my life to cancer in 2015. You will learn in time to live with the loss. The hole in your heart will be empty forever. The grief stays the same, we just learn to live a different life always cognizant that something is missing. I am so sorry you lost Andrea. I’m sending healing energy to help you through this day.