Something unbelievable happened to me yesterday. I am still trying to process it.
Yesterday was Day 1 of my kitchen/bathroom renovation project. The apartment was a nuthouse as demolition started. I took half a day off work to meet with the flooring guy, my countertop guy, my contractor, see the progress, meet with some folks from the City about a revitalization project for the building’s exterior, AND pick out tiles, toilets and vanities. Because if I am taking time off of work to go home and meet someone, I am going to DO. ALL. THE. THINGS.
Between the flooring guy and the City meeting, there was an hour for lunch so the tenants and I went down the street to the roadhouse to fuel up. It was almost 2 pm and I was feeling pretty hollow at this point.
Lunch ran a bit late so I excused myself and walked quickly back up the street to meet with the City people. As I passed my real estate agent’s office I saw that he was in and gave him a big wave and got one in return.
Then I saw a guy walking towards me in a very bright colour-blocked jacket, with the hood up over his head, and black pants. He wore glasses and had a dark cap pulled low on his forehead. I thought nothing of him until he passed me. I acknowledged his presence with a smile and a nod and was shocked to see my husband’s face (the pre-cancer face, not the gaunt one I last laid eyes on) looking back at me. He even had the same expression on his face that I knew and loved so well. Looking at me with downcast, laughing eyes, and a sly grin as he returned my unspoken greeting. He didn’t slow down, just smiled and kept on going.
I didn’t stop or turn around. I kept walking because my rational mind said I did not just walk past my dead husband on the street, and I could see the City people already waiting outside the building. So I broke into a little trot.
I told myself to stop freaking out and pull myself together for the meeting. Then afterwards, I told my tenants what had happened to me. Jonathan, who had left the restaurant shortly after me, remarked that he had seen me further up the street rushing to meet the others but he had no recollection of seeing a man in a bright jacket.
When my husband became ill, he often told me that if he didn’t make it he would be always watching over me. He also said to look for signs that he was still around. I told him that if he did this, the signs would have to be glaringly obvious and/or dramatic because I have never been sensitive in this way and I likely would miss them, otherwise.
I think this qualifies.