So I recently had a visit to my massage therapist. She is a wonderful woman with quite the touch along with psychic assistance. So when I arrived and she said, “Shawheen was here to visit me last night when I was picking your sheets. He had a message for you.” I wasn’t surprised. It came up later in our appointment and I might have been surprised by the content, yet I wasn’t.
I been very relaxed under her caring touch for some time by then and she hesitated to share with me the content of his message. “He said to tell you he loves you…” she began.
“Well of course,” I told her, “He tells me that all the time!” And I wondered what on earth he might have chosen to tell her but not me directly.
“Well, ” She hesitated again, “He wanted me to tell you that, well, he really only intended to come to this world for a short time…” She paused and I could tell she was struggling to share this.
I was thinking at first, ‘yea, 30 years was way too short.’ But then she went on,
“He just meant to come to you briefly, in your pregnancy…” Then the light went on.
‘Aaah, in the pregnancy…’ She wouldn’t have known me 30 years ago. She wouldn’t know anything about my pregnancy. “That makes so much sense,” I told her.
“Oh,” she said, “I really didn’t want to be the bearer of this news.”
“Yes, well, you wouldn’t know that I went into labor at 10 weeks premature. They told me his lungs weren’t developed yet. I had to take medication to stop the labor and I was on bedrest for 4 weeks.” I shared part of the story with her.
“So that was what he meant.” She said, “He wanted you to hear about this with someone you could talk with about it. Not by yourself. That was why he wanted me to tell you.” She added.
“Yes, so he planned to be a still birth? He planned to take his leave then?” I asked processing this new information.
“But he stayed because he felt your love so intensely that he couldn’t leave.” She added.
I processed further, “and he had no plan for his life, no soul plan?”
“He had trouble growing up.” She added, “trouble maturing.”
So that would explain the tantrums at 3, 5, 7, and even 9 years old and the addiction later on, perhaps. It also allowed me to feel secure that I had already saved his life once and I could let go of any residual guilt that I couldn’t save him the last time. He had already lived 30 years longer than he was supposed to. It still brings me to tears to think about… every day. Yet I am grateful for every one of those 30 years.
I don’t share this to make you think, ‘oh what a great love they had.’ Or ‘I loved my son/daughter just as much and he/she died so much younger.” or whatever thoughts we suffer with in our heads. I share this story in case it brings you a memory that helps you, or some… Some unnamed thing that helps you with your grief or your spirituality…