Everlasting

 

 

I recognized someone I saw out shopping yesterday. I thought it was my mom's old neighbor, Jane. My mom always bought Jane's girls little gifts, they were in a book club together, my mom was good to Jane during her divorce and Jane was good to my mom when she was sick.

I called her name once, twice. On the third time she turned to me and said her name was Rose. You must have a sister named Jane, I said with certainty. And, of course, she did. She was a bit surprised because she didn't think there was such a resemblance between them.

We chatted. She had met my mom. She knew the story. Jane is finally retired. One of her girls is a doctor and the other a city planner. She still lives in the little cottage next to my mom's blue bungalow. She promised to say hi to Jane for me.

I woke this morning realizing that I knew Rose. Rose and I belonged to the same gym and took the same classes for years. Ten years, ten years ago. What I find worthy of sharing here is how uncanny it is I didn't make the primary connection in the moment. I should have recognized Rose who I saw several times a week for years not Jane who I interacted with a handful of times.

Yesterday was St, Patrick's Day. That was my mom's most loved day of celebration. She was on the forefront of my mind. I recognized Rose, but was sure she was Jane because Jane was connected to my mom.

It made me think about degrees of separation and the thin veil between life and death. We are made up of energy. Energy is indestructible, transformative and eternal. That brief connection felt like an important universe moment...a hug from beyond. A hug I very much needed.