Easter morning at his usually visitation hour (4:00 AM,) Erik surprised me with a delightful visit. These usually come when I’ve been particularly sad and missing him deeply. Profound family drama and hardships have punctuated our life lately, triggering more grief than usual, so his visit couldn’t have come at a better time.
As a light sleeper, I often wake up several times during the night and early morning hours. At around 3:55, I noticed a grey mist on my right side just at the edge of my bed. ‘I’ve seen this before,’ I thought. The last time this happened, a blog member’s deceased relative came to thank me, so I was on high alert. Then, the mist transformed into Erik’s face as I remembered him when he was around 8 years old. He was smiling. grinning from ear to ear and of course making the goofy faces that only Erik could make. I told myself, ‘Okay, I know I’m wake. There is no doubt about it. This is no dream state.’ I even pinched my arm to make sure. I looked over at my husband who was breathing quietly, fast asleep. When I turned to look at Erik again, he’s transformed into his 19 year-old self, still with his wide, charming smile. We talked to one another using only our minds, not words so much as ideas and symbols. I asked questions mostly, and he answered them. These are questions I cannot share.
When our conversation was over, I reached out to touch him, and I could feel his energy. It was tingly and electric. Sometimes when I waved my hand from side to side across it I felt something solid, especially on the right side. It felt like his arm. I also noticed that my hand, my arm was not my human arm, because that was still under the covers. And my eyes were still shut, but I could still see. I was actually seeing and touching with my astral self. ‘So cool,’ I thought to myself.
As I began to sense that our visit was coming to a close, Erik placed his hands together, palms facing outwards. In the middle of his palms was a deep red blotch of some sort, but it looked more like TV static. It seemed like he couldn’t control its vibrational frequency in the same way he could control his own. But he slowly pushed this red static blob toward my face until it was only about 4 inches in from of my nose until it transformed into a beautiful red rose. I could even smell its fragrant scent. After a few precious moments, I thanked him for the visit and shed tears of gratitude and joy. How I love that boy.
When I freshened the flowers at his grave later that day, I made sure to place a lovely red rose across the marker.
