I felt quite sad last week; in part because I needed to turn on the lights each morning. Our nights are beginning to draw in rapidly now and nature is displaying that slightly tired, wistful sense that tends to accompany the sliding of late summer into the Autumn. The leaves on the trees have lost their crispness. Some of them are beginning to change colour. It is a mellow time, but it is also the calm before the storm that brings us the bite of winter.
When I set off for work the other day, I saw that there was something fluttering on my windscreen wiper. It was a small, white, pristine feather that had somehow become caught where the wiper blade joins the arm mechanism. As I drove along, the feather flickered back and forth with the movement of the car until eventually the force of movement released it … and it was gone.
My journey to work is no longer than 15 minutes, but it allowed me time to reflect on how uplifted I felt from this little sign of hope. Historically, white feathers were symbolic of cowardice, but I far prefer the spiritual interpretation that their presence indicates a message or sign from a loved one. I thanked whoever it was in spirit for sending me this little jog.
We all have our favourite signs from spirit. I don’t think we need to embrace a specific belief system to be comforted by what we see and feel as messages from those whom we have lost. More than feathers, I tend to associate butterflies with James, and sometimes songs on the radio that are a trigger to happy memories. I love it when I dream about James. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, although I wake with a sense of deep sadness that he is not here, I am comforted by the fact that he has visited me in my sleep and I hold close the loving warmth this instils in me.
Some people’s visitations are rainbows, others the bright-eyed robin, or perhaps scents that invoke a sense of their loved ones.
Maybe they are represented by a shining star in the night sky, or the benevolent moon.
We thrive on these little lifts in our bereavement.
They each bring our special people to mind in a loving and gentle, albeit poignant way.
It is comforting if you have a sense of constantly being accompanied by the spirit of those whom you have lost. At times of difficulty, I never find it hard to imagine spiritual support and guidance at my shoulder, and I don’t analyse too hard where this is coming from. It could be human, angelic, divine, or a combination of all those and it really does not matter. What matters is that feeling of being supported and sustained exists, and we all need that to a degree. I have noticed that I do not rely on signs nearly as much as I did in the early days of loss. And I take that to be a good indication of having assimilated my grief into a more comfortable place. .
All these thoughts tumbled around in my mind as I proceeded along my journey to work and then I set them aside to concentrate on the day ahead.
I parked and got out of my car. Looking down, what did I see on the ground but another white feather! I bent and picked it up, and smiling to myself, I tucked it into my wallet. Thank you, whoever sent it to me …