You Are My Sunshine

OK I’m just going to say it. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

It’s not really a secret that I am not overly religious. We are not a regular church-going family, but certainly have our moments when we are moved to do so. We believe in God. We believe in Heaven. But we also believe in signs, symbols, psychics and mediums. We believe that those gifts come FROM God. We LOVE and RELY on prayers from others and the prayers we say ourselves…I do believe they lift us. I do believe God has a plan, though I’m mad as hell at Him for His for Kate and I was raised to believe that was perfectly okay. I would call us very spiritual people, but not specifically religious. (I’m not interested in a debate on this; my word on the matter ends here.)

We have witnessed a long, long list of remarkable signs that tell us that Kate is near. Oh so very, very near. We’ve heard the same from others, some with true intuitive abilities. We are convinced. We KNOW this to be truth and I really love sharing all the ways she shows herself to us. I love hearing that you believe, too.

Last night’s example, though, has rocked me a little bit, but in a good kind of way. Hang with me here – this is long.

I have a dear friend who, before Kate passed away, I would have called a good friend. I like her; liked her before. She’s funny, witty and crazy smart. She’s also a crazy smart ASS which makes me love her more. After Kate died, our relationship changed. She has become one of my closest friends; someone I don’t see or chat with as often as I’d (really) like, but every interaction with her is REAL. I love this woman.

Last night, my phone blew up with rapid-fire texts from this friend and since our phones speak Android to Apple, I had to piece together what she was saying. The gist is this:

Friend: Pretty much every day I want to send you a message. Some days I know what to say, but on other days when I don’t, pretty much all that comes out of my brain is “Your are my sunshine, my only sunshine…you make me happy when skies are gray…not so much that YOU are my sunshine, much as I love you, but that’s just what comes out when I think about you. Like the words are being put in my head.

Me: “Do you know my story about that song???

Friend: I know it means something to you, but I don’t think I know why. But I cannot get it out of my head when I think about you. I’m serious that the words are PUT in my head.

Me: It’s the last words I spoke to her. I sang it to her as we rode to the PICU. When I was done, she pulled off her oxygen mask and said “I love you, mommy.” And we never spoke again.

This text thread continued a little bit, but we both admitted that nothing in her science-specific background could ever prevent her from believing in the soul, and that she maybe believed me when I said I thought Kate needed me to hear it…and she put the words into my friend’s head to share with me.

The thing is…she was right. Kate was right. I DID need to hear it. For some time now, I’ve been doubting that last interaction. I know I sang to her. I know I laid next to her as they took her to the PICU. But she hadn’t been coherent in some time; was I SURE she said I love you mommy? Did I dream that? Were those really our last words? Of course I spoke to her in the PICU…of course. But this was our last “real” interaction and I didn’t want it to be partially made up by my brain. You see, I believe now (shortly after reading a precious book about another mother’s loss) that my Katie slipped away before she really left. (There is a whole other story about why this feels true to me, but I’ll save that for another post someday…maybe. Those who were with us right after Kate died know about Angel.)

Why did I choose to sing to her that night? I’ve never sang to her before. I would comfort Kate by holding her really close, nestling my mouth down into her neck, close to her ear. I am proud that I could calm her quicker than anyone, every time. What I said, how I spoke depended on what was happening. But I never sang. But that night, I did. And I think she used that as validation to me, through my friend (who maybe needed a swift kick of believin’ herself last night) that it was real.

And here’s the biggest part of all. I had ASKED Kate to somehow let me know that it was. Just yesterday. And she did. Through my dear friend, who felt the words and was moved to share it with me.

Katie Girl, you are so close. I feel you. I know you’re here. Please don’t ever go.

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