I wasn't really looking for a sign or anything.
Just a simple connection.
knew such a connection could come in various forms. When you are
talking about the "other side," there are so many ways to go beyond the veil and connect: meeting up with a loved one in the
dream-state, a sensation when a song comes on the radio, an emotion
arising from out of nowhere, a communion during a meditation, an actual
I was looking to make contact with my mom, but no big deal, no big drama. Perhaps just a simple hello.
It was last Wednesday. I was at the dentist.
And the thought came to me. "Oh hey, where are you Mom?"
You see, once upon a time, when I was a kid, my mother would take me to the dentist. Like any mother would, I imagine. And during those very scary times, with my little body and mind filled with fear, I held solace knowing that she would be near, if even just sitting in the close-by waiting room reading a magazine or looking at the fish.
Flash forward three years ago - not too long after she had passed away - I was sitting in the dentist chair again. This time as an adult. This time in San Diego. Though I still held a similar anxiety and dread. In fact, this dentist visit was downright scary, as I was having some surgery done. Because I felt the same sort of fear I held as a kid, wouldn't you know it! Out of nowhere, my mind was filled with a childhood memory, and the room was filled with a presence. I recall sitting there as emotion rushed up in me, thinking - no ... knowing - my mother was once again here for a son going through one of those tough times.
I started to tear up out of love. The dentist asked, "Are you OK; am I hurting you?"
"No, you are not."
That visitation from my mother was so real to me. I really could feel her presence. Some may scoff, think it a figment of my imagination, and that's all right. I know what I know. And I know my mom's energy and her presence. I know it so well, that in other subsequent visits to the dentist, I have thought of her and then asked, "Hey ... where did you go?"
Included in these other visits was the one last
Wednesday, which didn't hold the same fear and dread as previous visits. And since I didn't feel my mother's presence, I figured the easy-peazy procedure did not
warrant a long-distance trip to some dentist office in San Diego.
Coincidentally, earlier that day, at breakfast, my wife Jennifer and I were talking about current affairs that included a childhood memory of mine - how my mom used to put my milk money into an envelope, so that I wouldn't lose the two coins in my pocket as I walked to school. Remember milk money? Did you ever have a mom who put your coins into an envelope for you?
Mine did. And that memory, talked over breakfast, brought back good feelings of loving support.
On the dentist visit later in the day, the thought of my mother did indeed cross my mind. But nothing too grand. I thought she may have other things going on. I don't know her current schedule; I've no access to an online calendar or anything. Even so, I did float the idea that it would be nice to connect somehow ... you know ... if it works out.
Upon leaving the dentist office, I thanked the office staff there, grabbed my phone, knelt down to tie my shoe, picked up a random nickle and penny at my feet, put on the headset of my phone and get to my car. After getting home, I recounted the story of my dentist trip.
Not even fully noticing what had happened there, Jennifer had to remind me of our previous conversation - how my mother would place into an envelope my milk money ... a nickle and a penny.
Not two nickles. Not one penny. But a nickle and a penny.
Doesn't sound like much. Not too much to find on the ground. I mean it couldn't even buy some milk nowadays. Not even close.
But it was nice to find. It was a pleasant memory, a lovely sign from the universe. It was a wonderful connection to rekindle.