You Can Sing This When I’m Gone

I slept much later than usual this morning, maybe because of a long afternoon of fresh air, sunshine and mom conversation at the playground. Some part of me had fallen into a more relaxed state and I will gladly accept this. My computer screen, upon awakening, featured an old James Taylor song I had never heard called “You Can Close Your Eyes” and, in another frame, an image of Archangel Michael captioned with permission to relax because I am protected. Archangel Michael is an entity who, I have learned, exists in the literature of at least three of the world’s largest religions and likely appears in other forms in the older religions as well. Spirit mediums and the many of us who experience the paranormal often ask his protection within this realm. And sort of like James Taylor might say, you can call out his name and you know he will come running (or flying?) to where you are. I gratefully acknowledge any type of blessings and soothings, no need to navigate anything alone.

“You can sing this song when I’m gone”. That is trailing in my mind and I am sure was sent to me. In this season of warmth and greenery I am so clearly here in spite of the pain which follows me everywhere I try to go. Until recently I have often needed to hold myself in reality by thinking the words “Susanna has died”. Kind of a cycle of forgetting long enough to go to work or buy groceries, followed by a cycle of remembering and letting the tears come, or the fear, or whatever necessary dialogue with the truth. Now I more often use the phrase “I am here, she is there”. This is my source of hope, and so clearly demonstrated in all the ways I can see and hear personal evidence. There is more to life than life. “Here” or “gone” are in body, heart and spirit are everywhere and forever.

This is something I wrote last fall, about an experience I had on a meditative walk. Pain and fear are not my enemies, just part of the whole.

Sunshine shows me things when I can see her. Shoes, dances, poses, things that surprise me. When I have been tired and feeling closed off for a few days, she comes when I am walking around the softball field as Papi and Brother play basketball. She is flying and I can feel her chest and wings moving, and see a beautiful gray twilight. It engulfs all of the place where we are. Everything is made of silver gray, like the night. She tells me, in her wondrous voice, that this is the place of the angel who will protect me in the dark. I see the silhouette of the pointed wings and know it is Archangel Michael. “The things that you don’t know are the dark, that’s all and, Mommy”, she says, “It is okay.” I fly with her. There is no separation between us. I think of the sea I have swum during dreams. Warm and cold at the same time, salty and buoyant. No harm can come and I can swim forever. So many places in heaven, Sunshine. Some dark and salty, like the womb of the earth.

By trishfreer

Mother, writer, artist and teacher grappling with grief and loss.

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