When my son died in a car accident coming home from his daughter's soccer game, I was en route home from FL to TN. I got the information along the side of the road outside of Atlanta where I was planning to spend the night with a friend. My first reaction was to scream, pound the steering wheel, and cry. I forced myself to be calm, got to my friend's house, and there I fell apart and gave in to my grief.
My friend had to leave for a short while, and I assured her I was okay to be alone. As I sat crying and feeling overcome with sadness, I felt an overwhelming presence. I suddenly knew my son was okay, somewhere, and I felt a calmness completely, almost a serenity.
Of course, I still cried, but it was for my loss and my family's, and his family, a wife, and three daughters.
His daughter who was in the car with him was in the hospital with a broken ankle and ripped pancreas otherwise alright. My daughter-in-law asked me if I would stay with her at the hospital overnight. My oldest daughter and I did.
I told my Granddaughter about the sense of peace I felt and that I felt her dad's presence. She smiled a bright smile and thanked me for telling her. She said that during the night she felt someone holding her hand, no one was there, she knew it was her dad.
One of the things I loved about being at Steve's house was watching the blue jays at the bird feeder. I had mentioned it to him and he said they could be really mean birds.
During the days prior to his funeral, I sent mental messages to him asking him to send me a blue jay.
The morning of his funeral, I looked out the window of my bedroom, and two blue jays flew into the tree, lighted briefly because the branches of the tree aren't very strong--they flew away--but they were there. They were definitely there.
This all occurred in late May and early June.
Another granddaughter, after hearing me tell about the blue jays said, "I'm going to ask Uncle Steve to send me some too." She was 9 at the time.
In the fall, she called me from Gainesville where she and her mom, one of my daughters, had been to a Gator game. Steve had gone to the U of FL and had been a loyal Gator fan.
"Guess what Grandma!" Her voice was excited. Uncle Steve had two blue jays fly in front of us at half-time."
I know, I'm probably going out on a limb, no pun intended, on this but how often do blue jays fly down in front of the crowd, during half-time??
The next incident happened to one of my other daughters, I have 4, who is a major skeptic.
It was close to a year after Steve's death--the family was together for the 1st Annual Steve McCauley Memorial Golf Tournament to raise money for students in need at the local high school.
My daughter was sitting in Steve's office, my younger son had taken over the business, putting together a CD to play at the 'tee-off' cocktail party the night before the tournament.
She calls me, very excited. "Mom, you aren't going to believe this. Oh wait a minute, I'm talking to you. You will believe it."
"Believe what I asked?"
"I'm sitting in Steve's office trying to decide which songs I want to put on the CD when I looked out the window. Guess what was sitting on the mailbox!
I didn't have to guess. I knew.
"Mom!"--She was nearly shouting--"it was a blue jay". A blue jay," she repeated.
It's now four years later and I still send little messages to Steve. It eases the loss for me to think he hears me.
This morning I was waiting to pick up his wife at the car dealer service center. I was parked under an overhang by the showroom. A Blue Jay fluttered in front of my car, perched on one of those round, put out your cigarette things, twirled around a little bit, then facing me, he flapped his wings and flew directly over my car.
And my friends, you can call me sentimental, or reaching for straws, want to believe, over the hill mom and grandma, but I know those birds flying by us were no coincidence. And that's why I believe in life after death. And I know, Steve is there, somewhere.
My friend had to leave for a short while, and I assured her I was okay to be alone. As I sat crying and feeling overcome with sadness, I felt an overwhelming presence. I suddenly knew my son was okay, somewhere, and I felt a calmness completely, almost a serenity.
Of course, I still cried, but it was for my loss and my family's, and his family, a wife, and three daughters.
His daughter who was in the car with him was in the hospital with a broken ankle and ripped pancreas otherwise alright. My daughter-in-law asked me if I would stay with her at the hospital overnight. My oldest daughter and I did.
I told my Granddaughter about the sense of peace I felt and that I felt her dad's presence. She smiled a bright smile and thanked me for telling her. She said that during the night she felt someone holding her hand, no one was there, she knew it was her dad.
One of the things I loved about being at Steve's house was watching the blue jays at the bird feeder. I had mentioned it to him and he said they could be really mean birds.
During the days prior to his funeral, I sent mental messages to him asking him to send me a blue jay.
The morning of his funeral, I looked out the window of my bedroom, and two blue jays flew into the tree, lighted briefly because the branches of the tree aren't very strong--they flew away--but they were there. They were definitely there.
This all occurred in late May and early June.
Another granddaughter, after hearing me tell about the blue jays said, "I'm going to ask Uncle Steve to send me some too." She was 9 at the time.
In the fall, she called me from Gainesville where she and her mom, one of my daughters, had been to a Gator game. Steve had gone to the U of FL and had been a loyal Gator fan.
"Guess what Grandma!" Her voice was excited. Uncle Steve had two blue jays fly in front of us at half-time."
I know, I'm probably going out on a limb, no pun intended, on this but how often do blue jays fly down in front of the crowd, during half-time??
The next incident happened to one of my other daughters, I have 4, who is a major skeptic.
It was close to a year after Steve's death--the family was together for the 1st Annual Steve McCauley Memorial Golf Tournament to raise money for students in need at the local high school.
My daughter was sitting in Steve's office, my younger son had taken over the business, putting together a CD to play at the 'tee-off' cocktail party the night before the tournament.
She calls me, very excited. "Mom, you aren't going to believe this. Oh wait a minute, I'm talking to you. You will believe it."
"Believe what I asked?"
"I'm sitting in Steve's office trying to decide which songs I want to put on the CD when I looked out the window. Guess what was sitting on the mailbox!
I didn't have to guess. I knew.
"Mom!"--She was nearly shouting--"it was a blue jay". A blue jay," she repeated.
It's now four years later and I still send little messages to Steve. It eases the loss for me to think he hears me.
This morning I was waiting to pick up his wife at the car dealer service center. I was parked under an overhang by the showroom. A Blue Jay fluttered in front of my car, perched on one of those round, put out your cigarette things, twirled around a little bit, then facing me, he flapped his wings and flew directly over my car.
And my friends, you can call me sentimental, or reaching for straws, want to believe, over the hill mom and grandma, but I know those birds flying by us were no coincidence. And that's why I believe in life after death. And I know, Steve is there, somewhere.
