The day you died, the signs started coming before I went to bed. I only slept about an hour that night, and not all at once. The light in the living room flickered heavily, and it never flickers. The television turned on by itself twice. The remote wasn’t even near me. When I did lay down, the fan beside my bed refused to turn on. It just hummed, the blades not moving even with prodding. I bought a new fan the next morning, only to have the original one work perfectly again the following evening. A bluejay feather on the trail (did we not just talk about that the last time we were together?) during a morning walk, a white feather beside the door as I took Curly out yesterday in the steamy July morning. And this lovely little stuffed dog/lion (because it’s the cusp of Leo season, I can’t unsee the lion, but pretend it’s a dog) on my sidewalk the morning after, like the german shepherd toy I found in guarding the park path the day after PM died.
You spirits and the way your energy leaves a trail for us still earthbound is a language of its own. But I’m not alone. Little did I know before last week, but G.H. has had very similar experiences. A strong scent at a specific time that she knows was not from her environment. Three black feathers when conversing with you in her head. Lights flickering and an inexplicable power outage the morning you died.
We both saw the light flicker when we met for dinner on Wednesday, and we’re both still seeing you. We know there is more to come, and we find comfort and conversation in that.
What we don’t understand is how an entire community, including us, missed all the signs while you were alive that you didn’t want to be with us anymore.