Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A Last Glimpse?

I walk out of work into a partially dark parking lot. As I make my way to my car I notice a young man leaning against a vehicle to my right about 4 rows over. He is in silhouette. My heart skips a beat.

My head knows better but somewhere deep inside I hope I am being given another last glance of him. He is the right sized person, his features in the shadows look the same, his dress is so typical of my son. I slow my steps in order to stare at him longer. He is not looking my way, I only see his profile. I know this is not him, or could it be? Could I be seeing him again? My goodness, it has to be him, it looks just like him. He stands just like him, in that James Dean manner. It has to be him. My heart pounds. It so looks like him, I am in awe and slowly I walk past him but I can not help looking back. He turns his face toward me and the light hits his features. My heart sinks! It is the wrong face. And even though I knew it wasn't him, I still hoped. I hoped I was getting a final glimpse of someone I love with all my heart. I hoped for one more chance to tell him how much I love him, face to face. But it is not the right face.

The young man gives me a sad little smile and I turn away, embarrassed that I was probably acting weird and I hurry up and get inside my car. And I cry all the way home.

It is not the first time I've seen him or thought I did. In fact I see him all the time. I see him in crowds, I see him passing me in a car. But I feel him in my heart and of course that is real and this I know.

10 comments:

Debra said...

"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning" Psalm 30:5

Bless you my dear Robbin...morning will come and you will see him again...

amy said...

I couldn't breathe while reading your post this morning. A few days ago I was driving home, not far from the house, and there was a guy walking on the sidewalk, wearing a backpack. He looked like he might have been living on the street, but he still had a "cool" air about him (very James Dean!), and dressed very much like Jonathan. He walked just like him with his hands in his pockets, and his head was down. I almost rear-ended someone because I couldn't take my eyes off him. He never looked my direction, but I could see right when I passed him that the face was all wrong.
I think maybe these things aren't coincidences. If he can communicate through nature, why not strangers? Maybe it's just a reminder that "hey! I was here! I'm still part of your lives!" He is still entertwined in our cosmic energy. Yes, that sounds completely hippie, but I believe it.
Love ya, and I'll see you when you get here!

Marge said...

I wonder if it's part of our grieving process? I've been dreaming of my mom, reaching for my phone to call her and tell her something, and finding her in crowds etc, lately. I miss her so much, so I know how much you are missing Jonathan.

It's sure not easy is it, my dear friend. But we're making it. And all we can do is take one little step at a time, and I'm thinking it will get a little easier with time.

Take care of yourself, and just look foreward! Washington, here I come! is your motto.

Memaw's memories said...

I lost my mother 40 years ago in an automobile accident. But I still think about her every day. It has gotten easier with time.

My dad died of cancer 16 years ago. I still see him in the way a man stands, or wears his cap, or points with his thumb, or any number of other manerisms he had. I still miss him but I don't cry anymore. I'm just thankful that occasionally something makes me think of him and smile. My older brother looks most like him, and my younger brother says my son is more like him than any of the males in the family. I'm very proud of that.

Keep packing and Westward Ho the Wagons.

Robbin said...

Hi Debra, I so hope that is true.

Robbin said...

Amy, Matthew wrote me and told a story close to yours. Amazing that the three of us are doing the same thing. Thanks for sharing that.

Robbin said...

Hi Marge, I suspect is it part of the grieving. I've experienced nothing like it before. ANd yep, look out Washington Here I come!

Robbin said...

Hi Shirley, I get your message, you never stop missing them.

Tammy Brierly said...

That was a bittersweet moment. He will always be near and I picture him doing the happy dance for the big move. HUGS

Robbin said...

Hey Tammy, yep, he always thought I needed to go out there for sure.