Friday, May 20, 2016

More light bulbs

Continued from Singing and Dancing in Heaven

The bubble of isolation I inhabited the days following Roma's death created some divine time with God. And maybe even with Roma. I don't know the protocol in Heaven. 

The silence I had initially felt in a world absent Roma was gradually filled with a different awareness of him. It is hard to describe, but I  could almost recognized an enhancement in the spirit of Roma. He was more than he had been before. I wondered if all the friends who visited with their kind compassion thought I was delusional, out of touch with reality, or if I was relieved that Roma, often a challenge, was gone. How could I almost be joyful at such time of excruciating loss? Or does everyone feel this consciousness of their loved one who has passed?

My sister, Weegie (a nickname  given her at birth by our grandmother) must have also been feeling this consciousness of Roma. Weegie and Roma had "clicked" before they spoke the  same verbal language. 

When Kellie graduated from high school in 2002, a month after we brought Roma home, Weegie drove our mother and stepfather from North Carolina to attend her graduation ceremony in Maryland.  The North Carolina relatives were eager to meet their new family member newly imported from Russia. Weegie is a fun aunt and the tease of the family. Once she sized Roma up as tough enough for her playful style of teasing, she showed her new nephew no mercy. She made funny faces at the non-English speaker,  which delighted the witty boy. He "got" Weegie's humor, which was not very different from his own. After some playful banter between them, Roma's face grew "all business." He threw his finger in her direction, pointing at her for a moment, then pivoted his little pointer back toward his temple, and in a dramatic gesture, circled it quickly, round and round. Yes, the universal sign for crazy! Roma understood his new aunt.

We had called Weegie at midnight as we left the hospital Sunday night with bad news. The next morning she was three hundred miles away and couldn't help us during the devastating blow. Our mother had died fourteen months earlier. Weegie had been her main caregiver in her last years. Weegie walked through her house, wringing her hands, asking God why. Why now,  when Roma was doing so well?  Why, after calling us to adopt him, would He take the boy who was so loved by everyone he met. Then Weegie elicited Mother's help in getting answers. 

"Mom, do you have him? Is he okay?" she repeated.  Walking through her rarely used living room, newly decorated for Christmas, she noticed a battery operated candle was lit. The candle was on the shelf above Mother's urn. "Okay, I guess you have him."
She twisted the candle off, and felt comforted. Later, she went back through, and the light was on again.  "Mom, are you trying to tell him he's okay?" Then she heard a noise on the other side of  the room.  An elf had fallen off the shelf. Then she corrected her words as she relayed her story. "No, it didn't fall. It couldn't have fallen."

"Okay Roma, I guess you're alright,'" she picked up the smiley elf, noticing a remembrance to smiley Roma.  Weegie finished her story, "I will never forget that experience."

Her story reminded me of a post from February, 2015, The Applause of HeavenThe "light-bulb" image came from a casual comment made by a friend who said, "that's what you can hang on to, the idea of the light bulb going on." Wise words from a wise and Godly friend. So "Light Bulb" has became a Sacred Echo, one of many. 

I'm hoping Heaven involves getting answers to all the mysteries that have me puzzled by a world and a God too big for me to wrap my little ant-brain around. One day I might have EYES to SEE.

Now, THAT sounds like Heaven to me.

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