((((((Hugs to All)))))) ~
Yesterday evening, as I was walking back to the house from the mailbox, a gorgeous perfect rose, drinking in the last of the day’s sunlight, caught my eye. Tears, which come so easily now, began spilling down my cheeks.
“Jonathan,” I whispered. “I know this is for and from you.”
The roses in the front patio bed have not fared well through the years of drought. After all of our rain, everything is blooming everywhere. Our roses are thriving and promise many beautiful bouquets. This is the first full bloom.
I ran inside to tell Jim about Jonathan’s rose. He smiled knowingly.
After Michael passed in May, on December 15, a lovely single red rose grew tall enough for Jon to see it right next to his window. That rose bush hadn’t produced in years. But there it was, the perfect red rose for Jon. That rose lasted until Valentine’s Day 2004.
We have photos of that rose too. Treasures.
I grabbed my camera and took a few photos. They don’t really capture the beauty and perfection of this Europena rose, but they provide a lasting memory for us.
While I realize that not everyone would see the sign from Jon in this lovely rose, I know in my soul that it is, because I have been blessed with 16 years of signs from Michael. Unmistakable signs.
Speaking of signs, when John and I were driving to the mortuary, he told me that at 4:00 a.m., probably the time, when Jonathan passed, the power went out in his house. His wife woke him to tell him, and they peeked outside to see repairs being made to restore the power.
John said, “In 17 years living there, we’ve never had a power outage. Never.” He sniffed, “My buddy was letting me know and saying goodbye.”
“We don’t say ‘goodbye,’ John,” I put my hand on his shoulder. “We say, ‘I’ll see you soon.’”
In the scope and magnitude of eternity and infinity, our Earthly lives are merely the blink of an eye.
JONATHAN’S URN
While waiting for Nancy to arrive, I opened the front door to find two boxes. A tall slender box, with a square box on top.
The tall slender box contains Jonathan’s Warrior Urn. The square box contains the supplies for Nancy to use next week, when she draws Jim’s blood from his port.
Jonathan’s urn was a pedestal for his dad’s supplies.
I brought the boxes in, the square box first. I told Jim that these were his port supplies for his blood draws. Then I brought in Jonathan’s urn, and Jim knew. “Is that our boy’s urn?”
“Yes,” I creaked, as I walked to the chair to sit down, Jonathan’s urn standing on the floor before me. I wept. I sobbed. I wailed. My hands on the top of the box, my eyes on the beautiful picture of Jonathan on the coffee table.
Jim handed me kleenex and stayed strong, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”
Then he reached out for me to come over so he could hold me and comfort me. We miss Jonathan so much, and there are no words to describe the depth of our sorrow. Yet, we rejoice in his freedom and his reunion with Michael, for whom we are and always will be grieving. We know that they are together in Bliss.
But we are human, and the physical separation, on this, the 14th day since Jon passed, is just immense and overwhelming.
Nancy was late, which was good, because we had some time to decompress and gain our composure. I told her that Jon’s urn had arrived, but that I haven’t heard from the mortuary, so I don’t know anything, and I should be calling, but I’ve been so preoccupied with Jim’s needs.
HOME
Nancy asked me, “Is it hard for you to go in Jon’s room?”
I began crying, “Yes. So hard. Very difficult. And Michael’s room, where Jon received CPR from the paramedics.”
Really, it’s every square inch of our home and yards that remind me of Jonathan and Michael. They were 6 and 7 years old, when we moved here. Jon lived here for 42 years. Michael lived here for 26 years.
Jonathan and Michael are the reason we bought this home. I was separated from my former spouse, and he wanted to reconcile. I agreed, as long as we bought a house. “I’m not going to raise Jon and Michael in an apartment. I want a home of our own.”
We have photos of Jon, Michael and me in front of our giant eucalyptus tree, when it was a mere twig. We have Michael’s garden, and I will create one for Jonathan. To me, our home is sacred, and I fought hard to keep it.
Love Lives Here.
FORWARD MOVEMENT
I must contact the mortuary.
I must contact Jon’s O2 supplier to pick up the equipment.
Regional Center sent something in the mail. I haven’t opened it yet. I just can’t right now.
Our freezer drawer is jammed, and our upstairs mini fridge smelled like burning plastic last night. I unplugged it. John will be home from his vacation on Sunday, so I’ll be phoning him for help.
All about Jim: in his thread.
Thank you all for your love, prayers and support during these strenuous and stressful days. We love you and pray for you and your loved ones.
Love & Light,
Rose
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Originally Posted by Earth Mother 2 Angels
