Full Circle

My friend Philip has been gone since June 15, 2012. Unfortunately, I remember his date of death. I say unfortunately, because I'd rather not remember that particular date. I'd rather remember his date of birth. Celebrate his life. As I do with my dad - I remember that my father died in March of 1990. That's as close as I come. So I get to celebrate his birth, every year, on January 5th. As I've done all of my life.

Why am I telling you this? Well, for one thing, because it's a peek into the inner workings of what, at times, is a very twisted mind. And no, for those of you reading ahead, it's not necessarily a good twist.... But mainly, because today something momentous is going to happen.

Chrissy, Philip's beloved daughter, is sending me the things Philip had earmarked for me to have in the event he was ... gone. She told me only that she included white sage in the box, along with lavender, so that I might cleanse the energy when it arrived. 

I'm finding it challenging to stay focused today. The box is arriving! Philip will be with me, even if only for a moment. I am practically trembling with anticipation.

Have you ever watched a puppy waiting for his food? The entire body quivering as you prepare the meal for the little guy, eyes never leaving the food dish, even as his entire being shakes and trembles with excitement. And then, when the dish is finally down, he leaps into the air and spins in a circle, smiling, wriggling, beyond ecstatic. Well, I'm not sure I could execute the leap and spin, but I know my heart will be doing exactly that.

Philip's picture - okay, several pictures - sits upon the corner of my desk, where I can see him every day. The bear I gave him, returned to me in June of 2012, rests upon my sideboard, where I can see it from anywhere in the front room. The books he's given me through the years are scattered throughout my bookcases. And the journal he sent me, when he was actively burning all his journals, the one with a hole through it - the bullet meant for his heart only pierced the journal - sits on my desk. In short, he is everywhere in my home, as he has always been. Always.

And now, the anticipation of whatever it is he wanted me to have - and the 'surprises' Chrissy included - well, I'm nearly hyperventilating. 

I'll not open the box at work ... I'll wait, until my day is done, and I've walked my baby boy Tucker, watched him do his happy dance as I prepare his food, poured myself a Jack on the rocks, put my Scottish ballad music on by Steve MacDonald, candles lit in honor of my sweet boy - then, and only then, will I finally open the box.

And no matter what I find, I know tears will flow. Healing tears, as my beloved boy comes home.