• Cathy Silver on Twitter

    Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

  • Advertisements

This Much I Know Is True—Signs From The Otherside Of The Veil.

th

I have been called intuitive, psychic, clairsentient, and an unconscious channel.  I believe there are no accidents—only synchronistic moments.  Some we acknowledge and others we fail to recognize.  So, was the case when Joe pulled into my driveway Friday afternoon.
His boss had sent him to replace my antiquated hot water heater which had given up the ghost and declared to me by the leaking water water in my garage, this Reem was complete.  It had given service to my home for decades—and it was time to move on to appliance heaven on my watch.  And with my blessings I prepared for a replacement. New energy perhaps?  In any case, Joe, a forty something plumber with dark curly hair and  a heavy northeast accent, wearing a bright red shirt,  stepped out of his truck and surveyed the situation.
He got to the task very quickly, but needed my approval for a new ‘ball valve’ shut off handle  and uttered something about having to turn off the water to the house which brought me into the garage and into conversation.  I stood there briefly my attention turning to the project at hand and moments later engaged on the details of the new installation.
An unseasonably hot sunny South Florida day,  I leaned against the door jam by the entrance to the laundry room door observing the progress as he worked, sweat poring off his forehead talking in light conversation as he wiped his brow and began to work his magic with the copper pipe fittings.  The subject had turned to more serious matters.  Joe shared he had been in an serious car accident five years earlier and spent ten weeks in the hospital—including 10 days in a coma.  “they didn’t even tell me for two months,” he said with anguish on his face.   I tried to hide my confusion, my mind scrambling, to carefully piece the story together.  He carried the scars on his arm—a plate on his shin—and halo marks on his skull.  He also carried something even more sobering than the visible scars and that was the death of his brother from that fateful,  sorrow filled night.  As much as he tried—he could not put those events out of his mind—emotion welling up, he turned away facing the new heater.
 “Do you feel your brother around you?” I asked causally placing my hand on the corner of the dryer.   He turned around and looked at me, copper fitting in his gloved hand.  “No—well maybe sometimes”.  “You know I’m Catholic.” As if to say, I’m not allowed to believe in those things.  I smiled.  “Do you think he’s all right?”  I nodded. “My brother was a great brother”.  He continued uninterrupted, “protected me through high-school.  We even lived together.  He watched out for me.  I miss him.”
So, unfolded a deep conversation as the water heater installation progressed, and so did the ideas and beliefs upon which he was raised, in a safe round about way—we talked about his brother and Grandfather’s death;  the sides of his box came down just a little Friday afternoon. Beyond reason.  Beyond logic.  Beyond proof. He had outgrown his box, he knew there was more.
 I don’t have to tell you Joe will never be the same after his experience—but now he was looking for the “why” in all this.  Life he felt was a struggle everyday.  I sighed.  “What if your brother loved you so much, that you and he had an agreement that he would go first?” I said.  He looked confused. “What if this is about opening up to something bigger—that cannot be denied?  What if he is still helping you?  Watching out for you and guiding you? What if he is with you right now?” It is strange he confessed, that I ended up here this afternoon.  “The laundry room is actually quite crowed,” I said smiling. Your Grandfather is here too.  How do you know that, he asked.  “Because, I answered, there is an agreement that a little piece of them stays with you– with us—just like you will stay with your loved ones when you leave your physical body.  But—you’ll be back.  I promise.  Just like he will.”
He will give you a sign if you ask, I assured him.  “Perhaps a song on the radio or a license plate just when you think of him –a coincidence too uncanny to be accidental.” I continued,  a sign on a truck or a coin.  “Coin?” He said turning around digging for something out of the back of his van.  “Yea—it will be something” I said.   “It would be a dime”, he declared.   Now it was my turn to be surprised.  As much as I feel and “know” the synchroncities never fail to surprise me.  The day before—I had been out running errands, and stepped out of my car– looked down and found a dime—heads up.  In the moment, there was something in me that knew it was a message; the feeling was there, but the meaning unclear.  I picked it up.  I can’t explain it in logical—left brain terms, for those that need explanation because it exists in that quantum state, but  I remember saying to myself, “I wonder what this means?”  Today, I had my answer.  “Hold on Joe, let me go grab the dime out of my car.  It is in the cup holder; safe.”  Still facing up, I handed the silver coin to him.  Joe looked at me, smiled and slid it into his pocket, he returned to his work.
We continued to talk about his brother’s death—memories of his grandfather—his son and his family lineage.   I know Joe was supposed to be there Friday; so did he.   I know why I had kept that dime safe.  It was to let Joe know that his brother was right there beside him. Never really gone.  He needed to hear that. I assured him that his brother was fine when he asked.   There is “no sting” in death for the one that passes.  It’s only us—left behind—missing them.  Sometimes guilt, anger, or sadness—torn—and confused and often wondering depending on our belief and our relationship–and circumstances.
I ask you to discern this message.  Maybe it resonates—maybe it doesn’t; either is okay.   This is about healing.  It is about love.  It’s about giving permission—and being open to the answer.  Because, death, our loved ones, and what we make up about all this is far more important and bigger than suffering.  God does not want us to suffer.  These are contracts and potentials that we agreed upon before we incarnated here this lifetime for our growth and wisdom far more immense than our 3-D reality allows us to behold.  I know there is grand purpose and we will reunite once again when we meld back into wholeness of source which in human terms is undefinable.  But the human soul—not really human at all– is there beside us always.  We just have to be open enough to look—and keep our heart open enough to feel—because they are there.  This much I know is true.
For interesting read that I loved,  you may check out Carol Bowman’s book, Return From Heaven.  You may also want to consult a grief recovery specialist in your area or begin with the book: Grief Recovery Handbook by Russell Friedman & John W. James.  Or email me at Cathysilverhealth@gmail.com if I can help you.
“Inspired Wellness from Within”
pipewrench
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: