I haven't posted for a while, been busy with family illnesses and everday things, but I've been wanting to post the latest "messages" from my Aunt Helen for some time. Yet again, she is making her presense felt in some interesting ways.
My Mom is going through chemotherapy right now (just finished #6 out of #6 last week). She had surgery in Dec. to remove a cancerous lymph node that signalled the return of the ovarian cancer she'd beaten 11 years before. This was a tough thing to take, but not nearly as hard as the loss of her closest, most beloved sister, Helen (my Aunt. godmother and confidant) Feb 26, 2004.
At her #3 treatment, my Mom was seated next to a lovely older woman who was rather talkative. Even though my Mom wanted to sleep, she was drawn into a conversation with this woman to pass the time. In the course of the discussion, the woman reveals that her name is — Helen. Startling but a common enough name for those of that generation. Then she goes on to tell my Mom that she has LEUKEMIA — the very same disease that my Aunt died from. Both my Mom (and Dad, who is the biggest skeptic there is) were startled by the coincidence, and were sad at the reminder. They both spent a good deal of time with my Aunt and made it a point to take her with them to plays, trips, movies, etc.
21 days later my Mom goes in for treatment #4, and is again seated near an older woman who is also getting chemotherapy. She wasn't talking with my Mom, but the nurse, asking if she could make a phone call to alert "her sister Helen" that she would be longer than expected. The nurse didn't catch the name she said, and so the woman had to repeat it (as if my Mom hadn't heard it the first time) even louder, so the nurse could hear.
My Mom found herself comforted at this — and now has the distinct impression that my aunt is most definitely with her during this time. Dad still remains a complete skeptic when it comes to all things spiritual, but even he had to admit this was strange.
I'm now more convinced than ever that my aunt is aware of what my Mom is gong through, and is with her. I think she is sending loud and clear messages (ones you can't put down to coincidence or chance) to let my Mom know this. And maybe me too.
It makes me smile to think of the determination (and resourcefulness) she's using to do this. It helps to think of her this way, though I still miss her more than words can say.
Just recently, after these two incidents, my Mom had a very vivid dream that involved her sister. She said it was unlike any other dream she'd had, very vivid in color, and with a feeling of "reality" that she found impossible to ignore.
Here's the dream:
My Mom was seated in the back pew of a very large church, very ornate and beautiful. There were other people there, but seated far from her. The alter was far away, at the end of a long, long aisle, but one of the most beautiful she'd ever seen. It was quiet and peaceful. There were also several dark figures seated directly in front of her.
Someone sits down beside her, and my Mom turns to see it is my Aunt. Here's the conversation:
Mom: Oh Helen, you let your hair grow.
My Aunt: (sort of surprised by the observation) Oh yes, it is longer. I'll have to have that seen to.
Mom: I miss you
My Aunt: I know you do. But I don't want you to worry about me. I'm okay. (pauses for a second) I'm very okay.
At this point, one of the figures seated in front of them turned around, as if to listen. My Mom said "it" was dressed all in black, with a white face and no visible features. It frightened her (she said part of her fear was that this interuption would send her sister away), and she glared at it saying, "I'm not afraid of you. Turn around and stop bothering us. This doesn't convern you." (BTW, this is SO my Mom's style, I actually laughed when she told me this part.) The figure turned back around and my Mom went back to her conversation.
Mom: Are you with Mama?
My Aunt: (very frimly, smiling) Yes. Yes I am.
Mom: I miss you so much. I'm so sad without you.
My Aunt: I know you're sad, (sounds almost regretful) but I don't want you to be. I'm happy here.
Mom: You're really okay Helen?
My Aunt: Yes, I'm okay. I'm very okay.
What a wonderful gift — a comforting message not only for my Mom (who is struggling so hard right now) but for me as well. I think my Aunt was trying to tell us both something very important. And she succeeded.
Just wanted to share this with all of you.