Saturday, June 16, 2018


     "Remember, you come into this world in the middle of the movie,
 and you leave in the middle,
 and so do the people you love.
 Love never dies and Spirit knows no loss." 
                                                                                     Louise Haye

Good Morning my Grasshopper,

As I read and write, a tiny grasshopper has found me. He is lime green, thin as a tiny piece of colored wire, bent into an angular jumping machine. He has a black racing stripe from head to thorax. He is no bigger than a large fly. 

He crawled from the wicker elephant table top onto my offered finger, then up and down each digit- slowly-my old lady knuckles as mountains and leathery skin as a runway. Across each finger and onto my daily devotional book of grief. He made his way all the way to the dog-eared cover page and used it to launch onto my journal, landing in the middle of my blue ink scribble about John 1:1:

In the beginning was the Word.....

I got still, offering only to push the page over a bit to let him jump-he did-then continued along the page of my pain, through the words that were smeared with tears and coffee, the thoughts and feelings and horrifying recollections of loosing you, Ian. Coming near my thumb as I held the page still for him, he startled very slightly, then continued to explore my thumb with one long green antennae (the other being broken off). I could see his tiny head move a little like a praying mantis. I didn't know grasshoppers could do that.

Choosing my finger again, and began to make his way up my left arm all the way to my shoulder as I held still and made room for the moment we were having. I wanted him to go where he wanted to go. Then there was a bold leap....from my shoulder to my reading glasses....I don't know why.
Even though he was too close for me to focus, I could see his little form moving across the ridge of the glasses, pausing on my nose piece, perching as if he were my third eye. Out of my field of vision but almost a part of me you were so close. So close. Then a hop to the top of my head, little legs crawling through my hair in off the back you launched and were gone.

These are so many of these little encounters with a visitor. I see a living thing do things that make no sense, or are too close, or too brave. I feel you are here every time it happens, maybe you are moving the little thing closer to me ? Maybe it really is how you connect with me.  Of course I will never know if these moments are real or imagined;  whether your love for me can move those "spring-loaded" green legs to jump onto my face like heart says YES every time and Paula's words ring in my ears:

"Try to feel him and open yourself up to him and he WILL send you a sign-an unmistakable sign. You may think it is a coincidence, but they are ANYTHING BUT a coincidence. He is very excited that I am telling you this right now."

So I believe you do these things, I believe you sent me the little green visitor today. For every moment of your 23 years, you were a portal for the beauty of nature; the wonders of the smallest creatures in this world. If you can reach across, it will be in this way.

 I believe I came into this movie in the middle as did you. I am stuck in this world and you no longer are, but Ian...we are not of this world. Your love is the catalyst for all these delightful little encounters, such as my bit part in the grasshopper movie today. I also believe John was right (Ian is Gaelic for John, after all), in the beginning was the word...and that was the beginning of our movie, Ian- and I believe love never dies.

I love you, grasshopper boy.