07-14-2025, 05:38 AM
This post was last modified: 07-14-2025, 06:19 AM by AlroyFarms.
Hey check this out. Found one of my old threads from the other site posted more than 10 years ago. Polished it up for sharing and added bonus content. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.
******
I was at the cemetery with my grandmother visiting my recently passed grandfather's spot. We were just kind of strolling around looking at random graves and such. Then we came to a spot where the name and dates were covered by decorations. My grandmother brushed them aside. When I saw the name on the plaque I was totally SHOCKED! And here's why:
So anybody who has ever read my posts may recall a few tidbits about me: I had a long and complicated bout with cancer as a young teen. Since then I have adopted meditation and faith in a higher power. I am sometimes skeptical of what I practice and believe in, even though I am constantly reaffirmed of my faith. Anyhow with all of my medical difficulties came lots and lots of alienation, depression, loneliness etc.
And so it goes...sometime last year I was in an especially fragile emotional state. I get downright depressed and hit rock bottom sometimes. The only thing I can do is light a few candles and incense and spend the entire night in deep meditation. One particular night I asked sincerely for a sign that I'm following the correct path in my life. I asked to be shown that I'm not alone. I asked for evidence that I'm here for a purpose and not just aimlessly drifting like I so often feel. I finished right about the time the sun was coming up. It was a beautiful, crisp morning. And because I'm a narcoleptic, I rarely ever see the sunrise or morning hours. I am the type to sleep in because I require a few extra hours of sleep than the average person. This is another reason why the all-night meditation helps me gain new perspective. I decided to head out to the park, take a walk, and pick some wildflowers before I had to get ready for work.
After going down the path by the river I spotted something bright and red in the wild, overgrown grass. It was a wallet. No money in it, just a few things in there like a library card and school ID. I wanted to take the wallet back to the address before work. That was all the proof I needed that I was doing something constructive in my life (of course there were conditions and stipulations, some vague and some defined, I had previously set up in which I would know this sign.) Suffice it to say that I truly believed..and still do..that this was a chance to serve goodness on this earth.
At this point I'll admit that part of my incentive was because it belonged to a cute girl. Probably a college freshman or someone around that age. Yes part of me was interested in meeting a new lady friend, but I would have made this expedition no matter who it belonged to.
I drove around a bit trying to find the address. In fact, it was a fair way away from the park. At least a good 5 miles as the crow flies. I knocked on the door and asked if the person on the name of the ID lived there, and that I'd like to return a missing wallet. It was probably her dad who answered. He wasn’t amused to see a gruff-looking loser knocking on his door at 8AM for his daughter.
The wallet had a little elastic strap on the outside that I secured a small wildflower into. The girl came up to the door and stood next to her father while I explained where I found it. I handed it over with the flower still attached (her father rolled his eyes.) She said she had no idea how it got over to that side of town. Although I'm sure she was just saying that because her dad was still listening in.
The name on the grave site was the very same name of the girl. I had photo verification from the wallet and the marker. She had died soon (within 6 months) after I made the wallet trek. After seeing it in the cemetery, I had to look up the obituary to see if it was the same girl. Indeed it was. And the obituary said "…in lieu of flowers, please bring one wildflower of your choice..."
I can only speculate what sign she and her family may have been searching for, but I seldom engage in such self-aggrandizement.
Absolutely synchronous! And this was just the beginning.
******
My Grandfather, George, was born in the Colorado part of The Four Corners near the Zuni reservation. He is everything to me. He was my father figure, my role model and inspiration to what a good man should be in life and what his responsibilities were. He was also the only family I’ve ever truly felt close to. Not going to put it lightly but I otherwise came from a family of alcoholics and dickbaskets. I chose to distance myself.
Among the many things he fostered in me was my writing. Along with reviewing my homework he would also help edit and critique my short stories. The man was a saint of patience and humility. He had a belly like Buddha and a smile like Bob Hope. He got diagnosed with fatty liver and had some small masses as well. Simple enough procedures and nothing was ever anticipated to go wrong. Full treatment and full recovery was the prognosis. After a small operation and some localized chemo he was kept overnight for observation.
I knew it. I knew.
“This is the last time. Say goodbye.”
I never said a word to anyone else in the family all standing around the room with cards and flowers and hugs and kisses. I gave him the biggest most grateful hug and Thank you I had in me.
Around 4am the next morning I gently woke out of sleep, groggy, and lifted my gaze over to the doorway. George was standing as I knew him, smiling and iridescent. Silent.
He had passed within an hour of visiting me.
Thanks, Gramps. Thanks for being my family here on Earth and continuing to watch over me.
******
I was at the cemetery with my grandmother visiting my recently passed grandfather's spot. We were just kind of strolling around looking at random graves and such. Then we came to a spot where the name and dates were covered by decorations. My grandmother brushed them aside. When I saw the name on the plaque I was totally SHOCKED! And here's why:
So anybody who has ever read my posts may recall a few tidbits about me: I had a long and complicated bout with cancer as a young teen. Since then I have adopted meditation and faith in a higher power. I am sometimes skeptical of what I practice and believe in, even though I am constantly reaffirmed of my faith. Anyhow with all of my medical difficulties came lots and lots of alienation, depression, loneliness etc.
And so it goes...sometime last year I was in an especially fragile emotional state. I get downright depressed and hit rock bottom sometimes. The only thing I can do is light a few candles and incense and spend the entire night in deep meditation. One particular night I asked sincerely for a sign that I'm following the correct path in my life. I asked to be shown that I'm not alone. I asked for evidence that I'm here for a purpose and not just aimlessly drifting like I so often feel. I finished right about the time the sun was coming up. It was a beautiful, crisp morning. And because I'm a narcoleptic, I rarely ever see the sunrise or morning hours. I am the type to sleep in because I require a few extra hours of sleep than the average person. This is another reason why the all-night meditation helps me gain new perspective. I decided to head out to the park, take a walk, and pick some wildflowers before I had to get ready for work.
After going down the path by the river I spotted something bright and red in the wild, overgrown grass. It was a wallet. No money in it, just a few things in there like a library card and school ID. I wanted to take the wallet back to the address before work. That was all the proof I needed that I was doing something constructive in my life (of course there were conditions and stipulations, some vague and some defined, I had previously set up in which I would know this sign.) Suffice it to say that I truly believed..and still do..that this was a chance to serve goodness on this earth.
At this point I'll admit that part of my incentive was because it belonged to a cute girl. Probably a college freshman or someone around that age. Yes part of me was interested in meeting a new lady friend, but I would have made this expedition no matter who it belonged to.
I drove around a bit trying to find the address. In fact, it was a fair way away from the park. At least a good 5 miles as the crow flies. I knocked on the door and asked if the person on the name of the ID lived there, and that I'd like to return a missing wallet. It was probably her dad who answered. He wasn’t amused to see a gruff-looking loser knocking on his door at 8AM for his daughter.
The wallet had a little elastic strap on the outside that I secured a small wildflower into. The girl came up to the door and stood next to her father while I explained where I found it. I handed it over with the flower still attached (her father rolled his eyes.) She said she had no idea how it got over to that side of town. Although I'm sure she was just saying that because her dad was still listening in.
The name on the grave site was the very same name of the girl. I had photo verification from the wallet and the marker. She had died soon (within 6 months) after I made the wallet trek. After seeing it in the cemetery, I had to look up the obituary to see if it was the same girl. Indeed it was. And the obituary said "…in lieu of flowers, please bring one wildflower of your choice..."
I can only speculate what sign she and her family may have been searching for, but I seldom engage in such self-aggrandizement.
Absolutely synchronous! And this was just the beginning.
******
My Grandfather, George, was born in the Colorado part of The Four Corners near the Zuni reservation. He is everything to me. He was my father figure, my role model and inspiration to what a good man should be in life and what his responsibilities were. He was also the only family I’ve ever truly felt close to. Not going to put it lightly but I otherwise came from a family of alcoholics and dickbaskets. I chose to distance myself.
Among the many things he fostered in me was my writing. Along with reviewing my homework he would also help edit and critique my short stories. The man was a saint of patience and humility. He had a belly like Buddha and a smile like Bob Hope. He got diagnosed with fatty liver and had some small masses as well. Simple enough procedures and nothing was ever anticipated to go wrong. Full treatment and full recovery was the prognosis. After a small operation and some localized chemo he was kept overnight for observation.
I knew it. I knew.
“This is the last time. Say goodbye.”
I never said a word to anyone else in the family all standing around the room with cards and flowers and hugs and kisses. I gave him the biggest most grateful hug and Thank you I had in me.
Around 4am the next morning I gently woke out of sleep, groggy, and lifted my gaze over to the doorway. George was standing as I knew him, smiling and iridescent. Silent.
He had passed within an hour of visiting me.
Thanks, Gramps. Thanks for being my family here on Earth and continuing to watch over me.
