I don't know what I thought, but I didn't think it would be like this. This specifically has been and continues to be the ongoing contact I have with "Tony." I thought it was over, but it isn't.
It's been twelve years now and what a joy this is! I rarely use the word joy. It's an emotion I don't often experience so using the word feels awkward. But it's true, accurate. It's been a joy to have him around in one form or another. Some of you may be asking, "What are you talking about? What do you mean? What's ongoing contact?" Let me break it down.
1 - I see him. I've gotten used to that; looking up and seeing him in front of me, smiling. Turning out the lamp before I go to be and catching a glimpse of him over my shoulder.
2 - I hear him. Usually I hear his voice in my head, walking along, thinking something through. But he has taught me how to have a conversation telepathically and to know I'm never really alone. Once again he's changed my life.
3 - And every now and then I can feel him. This is the most startling, the most dramatic, the most unnerving, the most welcomed. There are quiet moments when I'm writing, watching television, knitting, and I slowly realize he kissed me on the cheek. It's faint but not that faint! It's that after sensation that descends and makes me smile. One of the most startling encounters we had was a month or so ago when I was driving. A song was falling out of the CD player making me think about how he moved, not just dancing, but his walk, the way he zips around when playing basketball, how he backs away to avoid one of my spaniels from jumping on his bare legs in the summer. (He wore Bermuda shorts often.) All of that was running through my memory banks when I suddenly felt his chest against mine, as if we were dancing. I didn't drive off the road but I did gasp. So it continues - not all the time. He's busy on the other side. I know that. But he's here enough to let me know I'm not alone, that he's waiting for me, and will be there, as soon as I finish whatever it is I have to do here. I've just arrived at that place where you identify what you won't get done in this life time. That's sobering, letting go of some of the things you feel are important. But what I do have to finish won't be done by tomorrow or next month or next year, but soon because there's more time behind me than there is in front of me. The good news is I see him waiting for me.