Stopped in My Tracks: Fortune Cookie

I cannot believe I haven’t written on this blog in almost two weeks. It isn’t that I hadn’t thought of things to write about. It was more about gathering the focus to do so when other things were swirling around me. These last few weeks have found a decrease in the meetings and paperwork and such I was doing for so long, and has been replaced with parties and gatherings and decorating and my first book club meeting. 

One thing that occurred more than once is a moment of awe —something showed up that stopped me in my tracks and made me take notice. It helped turn the prism a little to see a slightly different color. I will be sharing these in the next few blogs, and will watch for new ones as I venture through life.

The first one came in a fortune cookie:

I had just finished my meal and opened this cookie and was stopped in my tracks. I set the message down on the counter and it has been there ever since. This little slip of paper gave me permission to not feel like I have to do anything. Sure, there are a gazillion things I can be doing around here on any given day. I will know when to do those things. And for the most part, it isn’t today, or maybe even this week. I am well aware I am still in healing mode, and grief mode, and pushing myself through cleaning out drawers or closets does not sound like where I need to spend my time. Instead, I socialize, read, enjoy binge-watching shows, and make sure I get good food in me every day. 

And breathing. Always breathing!

I don’t have to take care of everything. I only have to take care of me.

In Dreams (for Dad’s 95th)

Today would be my dad’s 95th birthday, and coincidentally I came across some items related to him this week that were of interest…some I remembered, some I had forgotten.

I have been working through purging a lot of things, and the journals and notebooks I have stockpiled here were a good starting point. This brought me to a journal I started in 2006 I designated as a “synchronicity” journal. I believe it was a gift from my friend Pam, or perhaps just the idea was hers.

The journal begins by detailing events that seem to synchronize together, but very quickly that focus drops off. Apparently, then I started going through one of my morning journals from 1993 looking for important things to write down. That is when I came across these notations:

My dad said to me “You are a strong presence in our family.” February 1, 1993

My dad tells me that Richie, Uncle Frank, his dad, and Grandma Maslyk came to him in his dreams. February 3, 1993

 I really do not remember him telling me these things, or why he did. What were we talking about that would have prompted these statements? Were we alone, or were others present? I really don’t know.

The journal then changes directions to documenting a meditation practice I had. The two notations above are the only things worth keeping. 

Then I came across this little velvet book.

The book is small, 4” x 6” and I’m sure I used to carry it with me. (My father was also a carrier of small notebooks.) It has a lot of quotes and notations to start it off, some little drawings, and comments my friend Carol made when we’d walk in the Cuyahoga Valley. A few items do include dates, all in 1997. 

Then it shifts to 1998 with these three notes. These are already seared in my memory:

A butterfly erratically flew into me while I walked in the woods the morning of the day my father died.

“Helen, I am taking instructions from the Big Guy and His Holy Host of Angels.” (This was 2 hours before he passed on May 31, 1998)

“Will you come to the park and talk to me, that pretty little park in Lakewood.” (My father speaking to me in a vivid dream in the early hours of June 13, 1998)

I have clear memories of all three of these.They are always with me.

I’ve decided to keep the velvet book, and I have moved the quotes from the first journal into it. I want to continue to put little quotes and important things to remember in this velvet book, because a long time ago I made a good start, and now I want to keep it going. I plan on writing more on this blog about the other treasures found in the velvet book.

**

I went looking for a picture of my dad from 1993, and there were only a couple. I decided to include this one from the Christmas season with his granddaughters Emily, Kim, Cheryl, and Kate.

Happy Birthday, Dad. We love and miss you. Thanks for sending messages my way, in all the forms they take.