Just before my dad died, I attended a metaphysical fair to promote my first book, Sacred Land. The two cases of books the event planner had ordered didn't arrive on time, even though other cases of books from the same publisher had arrived with no delay. I had about three copies to sign and promote.
At the fair I met a psychic healer who really knew her stuff. She really liked my book, and I wondered out loud why my cases of books hadn't arrived. She squinted her eyes in that inner seeing kind of way, and said, "Who stands behind you on the earth plane?" I didn't know what she meant. She said, "Your dad." In the middle of five hundred people milling about, I started crying. I didn't even know why. She told me that my dad was jealous of my publishing a book, and that he had held up the delivery. Obviously this wasn't conscious or literal, but that his energy - and I assume my own unconscious and energetic reaction to it - delayed the book delivery. She did some distance healing work on me and my dad. She said, "Now things will be different with Dad."
A few days later, I spoke with him on the phone (he and I lived in different cities), and we had the most amazing conversation. He asked me about my book, which he had never done before. He was interested and excited. Before, it was like he didn't know it existed. He hadn't known I was in grad school, even though I told him, and he hadn't asked anything about the book. It made sense to me that he was envious. He had never finished his master's degree in ministerial studies, and he had attempted many times to write a book. Also in this phone conversation, he asked for my help with his health. In the past, he had shrugged off any suggestions I offered (I was a massage therapist at the time, with backgrounds in expressive arts therapies and acupuncture) about health, mostly due to his shame about his weight and smoking. I did some online research, and we set up an appointment for him to see a naturopath. His doctor had been no help, telling him he just needed to lose weight. I knew more was going on, but not what it was, and that he needed someone to help him.
My dad and I have always been two peas in a pod. We are deeply into nature, and dedicated to our spirituality. We are writers. He liked to tell stories, like the time we went to look for concretions, rock-like formations of clay found in certain rivers and creeks. He used to go hunt them with his dad, and as we hunted he shared with me stories of concretion hunting and fishing with his own departed father. We found several concretions that day, and kept them in the windowsill at home. I would pick them up and inspect them, thinking of his father and our time at the creek.
The morning of his appointment with the naturopath, he passed away. I had felt it coming, and was stunned but not surprised. The coroner said congestive heart failure.
A few days later I talked with the psychic from the metaphysical fair and told her that Dad had died. She said he would now sleep for a year, as his soul felt defeated and he needed time to just float. That made sense to me.
A year later, I received in the mail a package from my brother-in-law. It was heavy. This brother-in-law and I are not close, though friendly at family get togethers. He's never mailed me anything. We don't exchange emails. I opened the package with great curiosity. Inside was a note that he had read Sacred Land and really enjoyed it. He said he thought I'd appreciate these concretions he'd gathered, which could only be found in certain creeks and rivers. He'd been collecting them for years, and something told him I'd appreciate them.
They were, I knew, a gift not just from my brother-in-law, but also from my dad. It was his way of letting me know he was awake again, and that he supports and is proud of my book and my work. He was letting me know we are connected always, through all sorts of ways, past, present, and future.
|Concretions in a basket of crab apple suckers and flicker feathers|