When is GOD coming?

On a beautiful sunny afternoon, family and friends gathered at St. Raphael’s Church for Addy’s Holy Baptism. Churches, they look like princess castles to Addy Rose. She was dressed in white with a wreath of fresh flowers sitting atop her bouncy, brown curls, the picture of innocence. We gathered around the baptismal pool, sitting in pews awaiting the arrival of the parish priest and attempting to convince Bear that the pool was not for swimming. Father John makes his entrance and greets Addy first as this is her very special day. He shakes her hand and asks her what she thinks of this day. Addy looks him square in the eyes and answers with her own question “So, when is God coming?”

Our Little One got a good laugh from the crowd gathered. From the mouth of Babes, simple words yet if I listen carefully I can hear the echo of mine over the years. I was raised in a family with great faith yet I never had a personal experience of God or perhaps was unaware and did, was unable to discern. It’s a question I asked when my Dad was dying of Lymphoma, when a newly married good friend died in his 20’s, when my first marriage was failing, when diagnoses of incurable diseases and cancers afflicted family members. This question ” When is God coming?” started me on my spiritual journey: a quest to find answers to this question and others with a desire to gain knowledge about the time from breath to no breath and the in-between. I have always been drawn to the mysticism in my Catholic faith. I could feel the experiences of the soul in the shared stories of my youth and my own readings later in life. The connection to the Divine felt attainable; the goodness and compassion a model I could be guided to follow. Spirituality felt gentler to me than the fear exuded from the Old Testament of the Bible.

I had done my fair share of reading, questioning and seeking by the time Matty’s death occurred. My eyes had been opened, my heart softened and my soul was constantly nudging me to grow, to remember to continue learning. I was able to express gratefulness days after the accident even though my heart was numb—grateful to have been Matthew’s mother, to have shared living life with him. Grateful that I had a heart full of memories and then the thought . . . perhaps if the heart can hold onto the memory of gratefulness in such a dark time, then joy and happiness and awe and wonder and laughter and peace may simply be frozen yet held in a state of spiritual grace waiting for Hope to begin her long process of melting, loosening, dissolving the ice, releasing these emotions from my heart,

Grief and reflection are my peanut butter and jelly—they just go together as I work through the process. I’ve heard the following words spoken and written countless times, “I can’t imagine how you go on after the death of a child”. I’ve given them much thought over the years. First of all, it’s not a process I can reverse so my choices are limited. I’ve come to the conclusion that the statement is made simply from the human perspective. It’s filled with a mother’s worse fear and there is a dead end to the statement that fogs the road forward from view. Finding myself in this situation and choosing to move towards healing, the answer for me lies in the spiritual gifts the Divine has allowed me to see, to experience. Yes, I have finally had my personal experiences with God’s Love. I’ve seen without a doubt that Love never dies. Matthew not only lives in my heart but lives all around. He sees, he guides, he answers, his spirit helps in time of need. Trying to process such a gut wrenching blow without the experience of Divine intervention, without a belief in the Afterlife/Everlife, in the absence of a belief in the soul and a soul planned life would seem like an insurmountable feat. My answer to that former statement is uttered from the two halves that make me whole—my perfectly imperfect human nature sharing space with the spiritual that carries me forward and guides me to see that physical death is absorbed as an ending to the human me but acknowledged as a new beginning to the spiritual me. Beginnings move me forward, endings hold me in place. A new beginning allows me to rediscover my relationship with Matty, to know that the misery of an end is not what I hold in my heart. Love has helped me shed the fear of living a life with an ending. Love allows me to see Matty in spirit. His legacy of Love continues to touch the hearts of the many he’d touched in his earthly lifetime.

I’d been contemplating writing a blog post to go along with Addy’s question and like all words Matty inspired, this post has taken on a life of its own. I had experienced grief touching Bear’s heart the week before. Wednesdays are Gammy sleepover nights. I was in the parking lot of the grocery store lifting Bear from his car seat. We were at that eye to eye level moment before putting him down when out of nowhere he tells me. “ I want my Daddy come down from Heaven. I want to see him. I miss him”. A golf-ball size lump filled my throat, I could not speak but knew he needed an answer. I was trying fervently to hold tears at bay and began pleading with Matty, with God for immediate Divine assistance in word and feeling. I reiterated what Addy and Bear have been told from the time of the accident, that “Daddy lives in our hearts now”.  I explained that we can't see him, but we can feel him. We know how our hearts feel when we love somebody. When someone we love dies, we are sad because we can't see them with our eyes, the eyes in our head. But Love shows us another way to see and that is with our heart. Our heart eyes can see things that the head eyes cannot.  I figured that was enough depth for one day and started walking towards the store’s entrance. As I was holding Bear’s hand in mine and laden with bags in my other, we were suddenly belted by a huge gust of wind. Let's talk about the wind! It's a beautifully warm day in February . . . unseasonal temperatures for this time of year in New England.  A calm day. When this strong breeze sailed in, I had a knowing that it was an answer to my prayer. A thought immediately entered my mind and I knew it was sent to me to further help Bear in understanding Daddy in spirit. “Gamma, why yore hair in yore face? “ asks Bear. I explain that we can't see the wind, yet we can see how powerful it is. It blew all of Gammy’s hair in her face and she needed to brush it aside so she could see. We can feel the wind, we can’t see it but we can see how it moves the leaves that are still on the trees, how it waves the flag on the flagpole, how it changes the smells in the air. (It smelled like a warm earthy spring that afternoon, no snow on the ground, that moist brown and green of last year’s patches of grass). It’s like Daddy’s Love that is in our hearts. We can’t see it but we can feel it and we know it is a powerful Love. When we rub our hearts we can touch Daddy’s Love. With the wind and four viewings of Moana over the next few days, Bear is able to better understand Daddy’s Love.

Matty’s signs have become more complex and feel more like a conversation. There is no dread or fear. I am filled with awe, wonder and gratitude when we experience Matty in spirit. There is a longing for reconnection, for wisdom, for growth for the experience of the Force that Love is. I am astounded at the strength of Matty's Love and I am also humbled by it, by the Divine orchestration that allows for the connection. I found myself that week,  living in the midst of a set of synchronicities that were ever expanding.

Hindsight is about to make me aware that there is more to come . . .

My friend Rachel was hosting a webinar on the topic of Signs from our beloved the following evening. Unbeknowst to me, Rachel had received messages from the spirits of our beloved (the same night I had my experience with Bear in the parking lot of the grocery store) prior to the start of the webinar. Here is her message from Matthew:

" "As your broken heart heals, as you are in your long goodbye to the me that was…You create space for the me that still and always is right next to you, sitting in your heart. (I see Matty with Baby Bear on his shoulders.) This is a cliché that I live in your heart?  A worn-out line in love songs, or a feel-good mantra? No, this is not cliché. This is truth and the poets, the artists…they always know first. They often know, not knowing what they even know. Keep going. I’m here. I will lead you to find your soul, your higher self. This is the you who is with me now. Then you can know we are together still… even between the signs."

The message is filled with Love, guidance and wisdom. I’m hearing validation that in spirit, he works with me in writing, in sharing. Matty has started off this year by sending quotes, thoughts, sentences that are to be saved for a later date as they are a part of something yet incomplete when standing alone. One saved file is titled “Worn out words” Worn out words and phrases. They exhaust me more than grief. The first two lines that initiate introspection for a blog post to come. There are a barrage of memes posted in social media that are trending. They utilize clichés, overused words without the back up that makes them so rich in truth. The backup, the supportive words are the bearers of messages. They offer nourishment to the heart when tackling the hard work of grief. There is a lesson here for me that Matty will be helping me to understand. Perhaps it is in letting go, recognizing that my path to peace and healing does not lie in these memes.

Another synchronicity . . .

Nikki, out of the blue, sends me a photo of Addy’s Baptism. “I was just strolling down Memory Lane on my phone. Look at Bampy, looking at Bear” she says. “LOVE”.  A nudge I could no longer ignore, this blog post needed to be written and shared.

 I text her back and forward the graphic for this post and email her Matty’s  message through Rachel. “Look what I've been working on . . . I haven't even told you the whole story  . . . how the moments for all of the happenings have come together. The pieces fit like a puzzle. God is the conductor of this symphony called Life. As much sadness that comes from the physical death of our loved ones . . . we can't control or change the outcome but what is in our power, our hearts, soul & consciousness is to become aware of the connections in spirit . . . the utmost guidance, beauty and strength in Love available to us for the remainder of our lives here on Earth. We are living our own version of Moana and Matthew, Source/God have humbled me and brought me to my knees in both sorrow and joy, from expectation bonded to wishing to the awe, wonder and amazement of the spiritual experience. This latest message is for all of us . . . 

And the final synchronicity that lends its hand in answering the question “When is God coming?” . . .

I see a painting by Laura Tomei in a support group and it speaks to me. With Laura’s permission, I am posting her work of art.

Laura asks what we see in the painting and what it means to us. She felt she should share with the group. I respond in a comment and explain that I am living in the midst of a set of synchronicities that is ever expanding and how her art adds another piece, another level.  My analysis of the painting—I reiterate  my words to Nikki as they were meant to be shared here as well. “I am being shown that as much sadness, sorrow and despair that comes from the physical death of our loved ones . . . one cannot control or change the outcome, bring them back to earthly life.  What is in my power; my heart, soul & consciousness is to become aware of the connections in spirit . . . connections offering the utmost guidance, beauty and strength in Love available to me for the remainder of my Earthly life.  Matthew/Spirit/ Source/God have humbled me and brought me to my knees in both sorrow and joy, and from the expectations bonded with wishing to the awe, wonder and amazement of the spiritual experience. It's all waiting, has always been waiting for me to reach through a human, self-created, self-imposed perimeter that initially seemed impenetrable to seeing clearly that the perimeter is simply a pale line of demarcation that I can expand, shrink or erase with awareness, understanding and choice.

Your beautiful painting completes the lesson this latest set of synchronicities is teaching me. Your art paints me a story of the inside/outside view of grief. From the inside, in the beginning the pain is fiery and intense; when I am questioning anything and everything, I shy away from getting too close to the edges of my concealment to see what lies beyond the periphery. From the outside, Spirit is waiting and ready to grab hold of my hands and pull me free, showing me a different more expansive view . . . I help carry my grief along with Spirit's assistance, I see from a new position and am able to experience that which had previously been non-visible to me”.

The learning was unexpected when I first started this journey.  The sorrow overshadowed everything. My determination to continue a relationship with Matty opened my eyes and my heart and the learning began in earnest. It surely is hard work when I meet a difficult lesson face to face, yet the reward of moving forward in healing, the increased signs and synchronicities from my beautiful son in spirit, the knowing that Matty is with me, guiding me, make the risk and the reward of following my heart leading me to experience God/Divine/Source is a lesson that has given rise to my soul remembering, guiding me to trust, to believe in something greater than my human self. The change and expansion of mind and heart let me hear my soul a bit clearer and the lessons come full circle.

I will share God’s language; the language of the heart—LOVE, the spiritual core of every faith seen or unseen by its believers and followers.

What does it mean to experience LOVE? It answers Addy and my question “When is God coming?” Love leaves a mark . . . a permanent imprint like the tiny handprint of a toddler whose fingers have been spread wide, dipped in paint and placed on canvas leaving a colored image of a little hand that forever serves up joy, peace and contentment with every viewing. It’s memories of birth and life and gratefulness and peace are permanent residents of the soul that can be called upon even in the darkest of times to let me know that I am not alone. Ever.

Grief has given rise to the wonder in the mystery of life and death and my longing to know God . . . without fear. In seeking answers, additional questions have been raised.  "Who am I?" seems to be the question that would allow one to collect $200 and pass go in participating in the game of Life. I found the answer lies in the discovery of "Who I AM". Embark on the journey within.  It is teaching me to live life from the inside out. Soft and raw and vulnerable attracts courage and strength to persevere. These characteristics walk with gratefulness—gratefulness, who has the knack of finding peace in the darkest of places.

So when is God coming? When my soul knocks on the door of my heart and teaches me how to see the worlds of Here and Now and Then and After with the eyes of my heart. God has been here all along, waiting patiently for me to learn the lessons spread before me on my spiritual path so that I may speak the words of my Soul planned journey. God is Love. Love is with me always. Matty once sent me a sign “the answers come before the questions”.  A message for me that God has already come and is sticking around!

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Laura Tomei mother to Alexander, is an author, artist, a nurturer to grieving hearts and soul. She created the Facebook Group Between Two Worlds, offering a safe space for bereaved parents who believe in the survival of consciousness to release and express emotions and share the experiences of the continuing connection and bond with our child/children.

She has written Footprints in the Sand—A Symphony of Grief

A synopsis from her page on Amazon:

The sudden suicide of her only child Alexander catapulted Laura Tomei into a surreal world of impossible despair ... Footprints in the Sand is a raw and personal journey affording the reader a first hand insight into the roller-coaster ride of grief. From the most candid heartwrenching descriptions of anguish, the processing and surrendering to what cannot be reversed, and finally the comfort of precious spiritual insights, Laura has crafted a book imbued with a deep, aching sadness for the son who is not there. And yet, he is. For Laura sees him in the house, in the garden, on the stairwell. She sees her son in the morning light and the afternoon sun. His presence is seen, felt and encouraged. She photographs, writes and paints her son back into being. The book is a beautiful tribute to Alex. It may break your heart, but will deepen your understanding of grief and offers hope to those who grieve the loss of a loved one.

Thank you Laura for sharing your art with the Voice of Grief readers.