On TV and in movies when people die, their loved ones always see "signs" that the person is with them, or hear voices, or have significant "feelings" that their deceased loved one is "in a good place." In the real world, I don't think this happens. Or at least I didn't right away after my mom died.
A few months after she died I was having a particularly rough morning on the way to work, thinking about my mom and wondering where she was, ondering life and people's purposes, etc. I just wanted one of those movie-esque signs that she was "out there" watching over me, walking with me each day. I parallel parked my car on the main street in Princeton for my daily visit to Starbucks before work. I got out of the car, stepped up onto the curb, and started walking down the sidewalk. Every morning as I walked the sidewalk into Starbucks, I looked into the shop windows as I walked. Princeton has really neat little shops with pretty old-fashioned windows. That morning, I spotted something red sitting in the snow on the windowsill of one of the shops. As I got closer and was able to discern what it was, I was overwhelmed with the sensation that my mother was with me, right then, at that moment. It was a tiny child-size mitten, made of red wool. It had been hand knitted for a child by a grandmother somewhere, and then it had been dropped in the snow by that child, probably cruising in a stroller while his or her mother window shopped. Some good samaritan had picked it up and placed it on the windowsill in the vain hope that the owner might come looking for it. A single mitten has no significance to the average person, but to me it was like a personal message from my mother. When I was little, one of my favorite stories that she read to me over and over was 'The Mystery of the Missing Red Mitten,' by Steven Kellogg. It was, as the title states, a cute children's story about a snowy day and a child that loses one red mitten. As I stood on the sidewalk staring at the tiny mitten, crying my eyes out, I came to the realization that I was going to survive the loss of my mother. Somehow, I would come through it and be okay. I can't explain how, but I just knew.
Was the mitten one of the "signs" that people see in movies, was it God, or was it completely insignificant and I made something out of nothing? It created a sense of peace in me for the first time in two years, so I don't think it matters what it was, or does it?
A few months after she died I was having a particularly rough morning on the way to work, thinking about my mom and wondering where she was, ondering life and people's purposes, etc. I just wanted one of those movie-esque signs that she was "out there" watching over me, walking with me each day. I parallel parked my car on the main street in Princeton for my daily visit to Starbucks before work. I got out of the car, stepped up onto the curb, and started walking down the sidewalk. Every morning as I walked the sidewalk into Starbucks, I looked into the shop windows as I walked. Princeton has really neat little shops with pretty old-fashioned windows. That morning, I spotted something red sitting in the snow on the windowsill of one of the shops. As I got closer and was able to discern what it was, I was overwhelmed with the sensation that my mother was with me, right then, at that moment. It was a tiny child-size mitten, made of red wool. It had been hand knitted for a child by a grandmother somewhere, and then it had been dropped in the snow by that child, probably cruising in a stroller while his or her mother window shopped. Some good samaritan had picked it up and placed it on the windowsill in the vain hope that the owner might come looking for it. A single mitten has no significance to the average person, but to me it was like a personal message from my mother. When I was little, one of my favorite stories that she read to me over and over was 'The Mystery of the Missing Red Mitten,' by Steven Kellogg. It was, as the title states, a cute children's story about a snowy day and a child that loses one red mitten. As I stood on the sidewalk staring at the tiny mitten, crying my eyes out, I came to the realization that I was going to survive the loss of my mother. Somehow, I would come through it and be okay. I can't explain how, but I just knew.
Was the mitten one of the "signs" that people see in movies, was it God, or was it completely insignificant and I made something out of nothing? It created a sense of peace in me for the first time in two years, so I don't think it matters what it was, or does it?
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