Something Inside All Of Us

There is something inside all of us that must be reckoned with, acknowledged, accepted, faced or managed. This thought came to mind after viewing a great movie, August Rush, just last evening. In the movie, the young boy has a tremendous love of music and an incredible gift, and while truly fiction, I can say that I have met so many students with such a gift. Maybe not in the music arena, but certainly in the arts of any kind, or in linguistics, or in athletics...we all have met, or heard the stories of those against incredible odds who have amazing talents and strengths. Naturally, it caused me to think of what is inside all of us, in particular ourselves and those we love. While we may not be able to sit down and play a piece on the piano or guitar by ear, or create amazing sculptures, we certainly each have our own talent and design, right within our souls.

In the movie, the main character was often referred to as a freak for his love and talent and belief in the music and what it would do for him. I have seen this over and over in a career of teaching when students were referred to as odd, weird or freakish for who they were and what they could do, or for what they believed in...and that was often the painful part of working with young people, and their parents. Of course, it brought to mind my own recent reflections and beliefs and talents and strengths. I wondered if I would stand as clearly as this adolescent did when questioned and if I would just shrug off those who didn't understand or found me to be rather freakish or odd. It brought to mind many circumstances and happenings and "signs", if you will, that I have documented to be true since Allison left this earth. I wonder if anyone would believe some of the stories, or if they would just appease me and nod their head, but turn the other way, and think that I had lost my mind! For some, I know the answer. There are those who are ready to accept the signs or visits or circumstances, there are those who believe as I do that when the soul leaves the body, it passes into eternity and naturally permeates our infinite space forever. I am thankful for those people, because it gives me others to share the stories with, and it provides hope for all of us.

Sometimes I hear music when there is none, sometimes I feel a whisper of encouragement when there is none, and I have had the shadow fall over me when there is not a cloud in the sky, or reason for another being to be in my space. Sometimes I have smelled the faint odor of a beautiful perfume in a room where there is no candle, and sometimes the salt air infiltrates the house, right here in the midwest. Often a light beam will shine through the house and light it up, if only for an instant, and many times there is an energy about this house that is indescribable, it vibrates with activity and love, and there is no one physically here, but me. Sometimes the computer chair will look occupied by the faintest of beings, only to see that it is not occupied. And sometimes, when little children have come over, they see things here that our eyes do not...one described it as an angel for Joe and Kathy, an angel with blue or green eyes. There is a peace about our lives, now, through pain and loss and tears and devastation, there is still a peace. There are whispers of love and the will to go on. There are signs and they are everywhere. I often wonder, is it God, is it Allison, is it Hope?

I recall, so vividly, the first Thanksgiving after Allison was gone. None of us knew what to do or how to do it. We couldn't imagine the empty chair. We didn't want to go on. But we had to, for our sakes, and the sake of everyone else. None of us could commit to a plan. Grandpa was in the hospital for surgery, the same hospital that Allison spent her last days in, and since it was a holiday, many patients were moved to another floor, and yes, he was moved to Allison's floor, and the very room, or the one right next to it, where Allison fell to eternal sleep. It was all too much, yet, we moved through it all, and had dinner here. Every step was so surreal and felt as if we moved in a fog. Who knows what I cooked or what we ate, but we somehow managed to have dinner. When everyone was gone and I could barely stand with the compelling emotion, I headed toward my bedroom and checked on the lights. There was a bright light in the little office, and as I headed there, I noticed it began to fade. But a very clear whisper came from that room, "you did it Mom, you made it", and then the room was dark. Did I imagine it? Did I dream it? Did I make it up? No, it was real to me and I believe, accept and acknowledge that these things can and do happen. Again I say, was it God, was it Allison, or was it Hope? I believe it was all three, giving me reason to keep going, showing me signs that I can do this, somehow, someway, and giving me reason to accept, acknowledge and face what is mine. It won't matter what anyone else thinks, or if they wonder about me, for I know, I know something that is only mine to know, and I will stay open to the wonderment of the signs, and the music when there is none, and the scent when there could be no reason, and I will cling to the messages.

Yes, there is something inside of us alright, and it is beautiful when we know it, embrace it, acknowledge it, but mostly accept it, without concern of what others may think or do or say. What a treasured gift indeed!