A Spiritual Calling


Today is seven years since my dear son Jason passed away. I am feeling emotionally drained because this year I finished his book with his story being pulled from the journals of my mind. Everything I tried to file away for so many years is now out and the pain of loss is something I cannot deny anymore. I still cannot cry. I built a very strong defense mechanism that holds back my tears. Maybe I do not need tears to mourn? I think mourning is something we all do differently.

Throughout my life I experienced spirituality in different ways. Many years ago when my husband and I were married, his grandmother was very sick but she did manage to walk down the isle at our wedding. We left for our honeymoon with the hope she will recover. The first night in Bermuda sitting at our dinner table, it rained for about five minutes and it stopped and did not rain for the remainder of the week. We didn’t think much of it. When we returned home we were told she passed away the day after our wedding at the same time when it rained in Bermuda. For the first time I started thinking about the spirits but not quite ready to believe. My mother-in-law was spiritual and when I told her there was a bright light coming in our bedroom from a street light outside, she told me it was her mother watching over us. For obvious reasons I did not like the idea she was invading our privacy but more importantly, the light frightened me rather then giving me comfort. I was young and did not understand spirituality at that age.

When Jason was a year old someone gave me a poem, “Our Special Child”. It talks about God giving special children to parents he knew could take good care of them. I held onto this poem for years using it for comfort and guidance helping me care and advocate Jason’s needs. I now understood the true meaning of spirituality.

Last night I was awakened from sleep a few times from my window shaking from the wind. A few minutes after awakening the rain started coming down in droves and it only lasted a few minutes. As I laid in bed listening to the sound of the rain falling out of the sky, I realized today is the seventh anniversary of my son’s death.

Jason was reaching out to me spiritually with the wind shaking the window throughout the night and waking up with a drenching of hard rain for a few minutes. He is speaking to me spiritually through Mother Nature letting me know he was okay and asking me not to be sad today. Apparently rain is my way of hearing the spirits of my loved ones.
My husband reminded it was raining the day of his funeral. This is the spiritual connection I have with Jason.

I painted the above picture using Jason as the subject. I distorted it in Photoshop before using it in the painting. I suppose it is my way of hiding him from the world. I still remember the stares he would get when we were walking through a shopping mall. I remember parents moving there children away from his wheelchair as if they thought they would catch what he had. I am still trying to protect him from the bad people of our world. However, the statement I was making in the painting was so important I needed to use his picture to express what I wanted the world to know.I cannot wait until Jason’s story is published because I want the world to know how special he was.

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