I was almost relieved to read your blog posts about white feathers and how they helped you when members of your family died. I was beginning to think my own experience was all in my imagination.
In my case it wasn't white feathers but strands of wool.
My mother broke her hip quite badly following a fall and we thought it best that she move in with my husband and I. As she couldn't walk she passed the time watching television, but most of all she loved to knit. In fact she never seemed to stop even for her favourite TV soap. She knitted gloves, socks, scarves, jumpers and even doll like creatures with strange looking faces.
We were always teasing her about her knitting. The fact was that nobody really wanted the finished products. You can imagine our 20 year old son's expression as his Gran handed him a new sweater she had just finished. Good humoured though, he remembered his manners and said the standard, "Just what I wanted, Gran."
After about 18 months mum took poorly and we nursed her through a difficult time until she eventually died. It was so sad, I felt like a lost orphan. She was always there for me, no matter what I did, especially when I was younger.
As we were about to set off to her funeral my husband picked a wool thread from the shoulder of my dress.
After the service I looked tearfully at the flowers and messages next to her grave. In the middle was a ball of wool. I asked my husband and son if they had placed it there, but they were both definite that they hadn't. My son said it was probably Gran's wool she wanted to take with her. Somehow we actually joked about angels wearing scarves and woollen gloves.
From then on, for about ten days, I kept finding wool on my clothes. At the time I just took it to be left over bits from when we tidied my mother's room.
But then, one evening, I felt very sad while thinking about my mother and all she meant to me. She was such a lovely woman and in many ways my heroine.
I started to cry and it felt like there was a gentle hand on my left shoulder. I turned round expecting to see my husband but he wasn't to be seen. I called out to him and he came into the kitchen where I was.
"What's this?" he said and and pulled a length of wool from my left shoulder. I burst into tears and felt as if my mother had somehow been with me for a few moments.
We kept on finding wool and it made me smile that perhaps mother was watching me. Gradually the wool became less and less as time passed. Until, that is, last Friday, which would have been her birthday. My husband found a large length of wool on my shoulder.
Since reading your own experiences with white feathers I now feel that my mother left me the wool reminders and that's quite comforting.
The White Feather Message from The Dead
White Feathers Comfort The Bereaved
The Bird Angel Who Comforts As Someone Dies
That sent a cold tingle down my spine. Quite a story. Better warm up as I've only 7 mins before I start work.ReplyDelete
I prefer you white feathers! Seems far fetched to me that the dead are sending pieces of wool. Why not something more worthwhile?ReplyDelete
Love this story. Why not wool? In college, my roommate's dead grandmother used to leave straight pins around the house. The object is less important than the contact itself.ReplyDelete
Beautiful story..I know only too well how we're given reminders that our loved ones visit us. My husband was quite a prankster when he was alive...and after he passed he would do all sorts of things with the lights in the house...he was an electrician by trade. I can remember one new years eve...when I was home alone...standing in the kitchen in evening and all the under cabinet lighting started flickering right where I was standing next to it...and thinking of him. It felt so comforting. We've had many other little incidences...like the TV remote changing channels on us without us touching it...or the TV just turning off. Table lamp that once went on by itself.ReplyDelete
Thanks for this post Mike...it's reminded me of these comforting visits.
an absolutely beautiful storyReplyDelete
Lovely story - and one I can relate to. My husband leaves me Phillips screws...ReplyDelete