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Welcoming Life


It's cold here in the Northeast.Just the way it should be in early January.This morning, I put on my treasured hat, the one pictured here.I almost lost it eleven years ago.Can a hat be a treasure?This one is.My husband bought it for me when we were visiting friends in Colorado, and we had packed too lightly.He placed great stock in hats being essential to protecting the body from becoming too cold.He once bought me a woolen hat in Camden, Maine on an incredibly hot day in July.He had a real boy scout "be prepared" instinct when it came to hats.This one though was extra special.I took it with me to Toronto where I fled the day of his funeral.I escaped to a favorite city of ours so that I could steep myself in memories and soak as much of him and our life together as I could so that I would never forget what we had.Some thought my desire to be alone away from loving family and friends was disturbing, but I knew instinctively that I needed to concentrate in isolation on what our life had been like and feel the pain of love lost and the exhilaration of love experienced.I knew it would not come my way again, and I had to make peace with it.Now what does a hat have to do with this story?Just this.I wore it constantly for the first few frigid February days when I walked the streets of Toronto, mulling over my life.Each night after coming home to the hotel, I put my hat on the desk in my room.The fourth day after breakfast I reached for my hat which I always put by my lap top.It was not there.I had kept my roiling emotions under control until then.I panicked, I was gripped with the unfathomable loss that I had held at bay.I came face to face with the horror of losing the love of my life and the loss of this hat brought it all home to my heart.Where had it gone?I spent the day searching for it.I revisited every place I'd been the day before.No hat.I begged the kind people at the small hotel where I was staying--they knew the story-to search everywhere for my hat.They did--but they didn't find it.Neither had I found it.Every nook and cranny of my room had been torn apart--multiple times.I had visited all the "lost and founds" of each restaurant and shop I had gone to the last three days.No hat.The next morning after a sleepless night, I ordered room service coffee, when I went to get the money for the tip I went to my desk--on it was the HAT.There was no logical way the hat could have been placed at my desk.My hat had been lost and now found impossibly.How? Why? I have learned since that there is an expression in the grieving glossary called "metaphor". It is the not-to-be explained incidences that leads the grieving individual to believe you are in contact with the loved one lost.My hat is my metaphor.I know there was no logical explanation about how my hat came to be on my desk.It didn't matter--I had my hat and I had the experience of perhaps the hand of my husband reaching to me from beyond.Magical? Yes.Comforting? Yes.More than that, though, it was a signal that I had to accept things beyond my comprehension.I had to have faith.I had to begin to see that life is in many ways beyond our control.My hat still keeps me warm as it did this morning.It is also a constant reminder to try and believe in those things that don't make sense.

4 Comments to Magical:

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Carol on Saturday, January 5, 2013 3:33 PM
How I love that story!!!!
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Patty on Saturday, January 5, 2013 4:16 PM
And for which there is no "logical" explanation. Love you.
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Sherrie on Saturday, January 5, 2013 11:44 PM
After my mother died, a Cardinal built a nest in my garden window box. I could sit in that window. She left her eggs, nested there, the eggs hatched and eventually the birds flew away except one that did not make it. I sat in the window box every day. The mother cardinal never moved from her nest when I came. She nested and fed her young with me a foot away. I buried her baby that couldn't fly because it broke its wing and died. My funeral for the baby bird and relationship with the mother cardinal was my something that didn't make sense. This is the first I've ever spoken of it. Thank you Connie. I hope you do for others what you do for me. These memories are blessings.
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Replica Girard Perregaux Petit Chronographe Watch on Tuesday, April 16, 2013 3:02 AM
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