We visited a place called the Doseum yesterday. It’s a wonderful interactive kids museum in San Antonio, Texas. During our tour of the grounds, we came across a circle of wooden chairs, made from the stumps of old trees. They were gathered in a circle underneath a majestic oak tree that they aptly named “The Storytelling Tree”. Each of the chairs were dedicated to the memory of someone close to the numerous benefactors of the museum. When I read the dedication pictured above, I received it as the most fitting conclusion to a week that offered clear examples of this excellent quote.
I have long been witness to those that I have loved and lost “stopping by” to pay a visit. There are many out there that will call these events a mere coincidence, and they may be right, but I deeply believe that these are so much more than that.
Although I have lost many loved ones, there are a select few that seem to regularly “visit” me, and I can’t quite understand the reason, but I’d rather embrace their presence than spend too much time pondering why they choose to do so.
This all started on the day that my dear Uncle John passed away. I was working on a project in Hearne, Texas. I was erecting an electrical substation, and we had recently had hundreds of tons of “insulating rock” spread across the multiple acre job site. This rock was a white limestone aggregate that was pretty uniform in size. I was a supervisor on the project, so I’d spent quite some time walking every square foot of that yard, inspecting the numerous items that required my close attention.
I was walking this yard when I got the text that, unfortunately, I knew was coming. It was from my mother, and she explained that he had passed on. I was fortunate to have been able to see him and spend some time with him during his final days, and we’d all rallied around him as a family unit over the preceding couple of weeks, hence the text rather than a phone call.
As I read that text, even though I knew it was coming, it stopped me in my tracks as my heart sank. I took a moment to think of him and I took great comfort in knowing that he was finally free of pain and suffering. I took one step forward and, at my feet below, was a large piece of petrified wood. In an ocean of uniform, white rock was this beautiful specimen. I’d walked this yard countless times and I am certain that I would have noticed this. I am a huge fan of petrified wood and this is something that my uncle and I had in common and had talked about numerous times. This piece of petrified wood at my feet was a gift… a gift from my Uncle John.
A few weeks later at his memorial, we all sat in a circle and shared our memories of him and spent the better part of an afternoon celebrating his life. There was a moment during this time where two gorgeous Monarch Butterflies flew in and out of us all. At times, they would land on my mother, then on my aunt, and on others as we talked about my late uncle. My grandmother greatly enjoyed and appreciated the Monarch Butterflies. We’d lost her a few years prior to my uncle and I am beyond certain that these two monarchs were her and my uncle paying us a visit to help soother the deep pain we were all feeling.
My father is one who visits me quite often as well. I’ve seen him in the most vivid and unexplainable dreams, and I “see” him in public quite a bit. This week, as I walked through a conference center full of thousands of people, I “saw” him in a sea of people. He comes to me through a person of great resemblance, but it’s always much more that the passing thought of “Hey, that guy looked like my dad.”. There is always eye contact that lasts as if you recognize someone you’ve known forever. In this case, after that eye contact, the man smiled at me in a way that my father would, and he even gave me this nod that was so unique to my father. This happens to me quite often and it never gets old or is taken for granted. I reflected on my father for a moment and went on with my day with a feeling of rejuvenation.
And last, as a final example, as we visited the gift shop in the kids museum yesterday, I was perusing their selection of souvenir refrigerator magnets. We have an extensive collection of magnets from our travels and we always look to add to it every time we visit a place of significance to us. The selection before me offered some of the museum, some of the city in general, and there were multiples of each style. As I scanned the selection, there was one that stood out to me. It was an anomaly of the bunch, a rendering of the sun and the moon. We’ve all seen this iconic representation of the sun on one half and the moon on the other. This holds many different meanings to so many, but this was the icon of my uncle’s relationship with my aunt. This symbol adorned their entire house and spoke volumes to their relationship. This magnet did not “belong” in the group and it was so strange to see it there, but I knew exactly why it was there.
Our loved ones always come back to us. Their spirits are heavily intertwined with ours, and they will always find a way to visit us. Sometimes it’s to simply say hello. In harder times, they’re there to comfort us. In times of great triumph, they stand with us in celebration and recognition. These moments aren’t coincidence. Don’t ignore them or chalk them up to mere chance. Embrace them, just as you embraced your loved ones when they were with you. Feel their warmth, see their smile, and rest assured that they are with you. Yesterday, today, and beyond… they’re with you.