When I was a little girl I was playing with a neighbor in the sand box. It was a beautiful day except for the fact that there was a funeral going on for a family friend nearby in a local cemetery. A big man with a big heart and a wonderful laugh.
Like I said, I was a little girl and therefore wasn’t taken to the burial. Little kids didn’t go to those much back then. I’m not sure why. Was it the perceived inability to comprehend it? Was it keeping a child still throughout the ceremony? Preventing them from the ‘fear of death’? I don’t know but I do know I was playing in the sandbox.
I was just a little girl. I didn’t think much of death. I suppose I just wasn’t concerned with it. People lived, people died. I do however remember a feeling of sadness over this particular death and wondering ‘if he would be okay’. It was then that I looked up and saw what, in the mind of this child, appeared to be a black baton shaped image. Softly turning a bit as it gently floated from the ground area to the sky. And at that moment something spoke to me. Not out loud. And to describe it today I’d say it was more of an unspoken thought conveyed to me….and it was just expressed, ‘not to worry, that he was going to be okay’.
I also knew without being told or without questioning….that this was the soul of the deceased going home. I knew this because this was also conveyed to me, not through words but merely by sight in my own mind. I cannot describe the conveyance of this with words other than to say it was as if, in just a few seconds, something in my mind directed me to see the soul uplifting. And assure me that ‘that’ is why everything was fine. I don’t believe it was the deceased ’speaking’ to me…but it was more of a universal thought. (as I look back now) My friend in the sand box was talking to me this entire time. I could hear his words muffled in the background very quietly as I was shown the soul. And as I watched the soul continue to move and ascend and then finally disappear…the little boy in the sandbox was still speaking and didn’t even know I hadn’t been listening. And I didn’t tell him. The day went on. We played in the sandbox.
It’s funny that I still remember this so vividly. It was quick and I didn’t tell my mom. That is until I was an adult. Now, I didn’t tell her as a child because I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary. And as I grew up I didn’t mention it because, well, society raises us that if we’d ‘talk like that’ then we’re either lying, trying to get attention or just nuts. But I did finally mention it. And I believe she in turn found it fascinating and mentioned it to my Aunt (daughter of the deceased) who in turn may have found comfort in the story.
It’s a big deal for me to push the ‘publish button’ for this post…because I’m still leery of people thinking I’m crazy. In fact, my heart is really beating hard at this very minute. But I also feel really good about finally putting this experience in writing. And, I doubt if the soul is actually a black baton shaped object but I’m assuming that things are presented to people in terms they can comprehend at the time. At any rate, once….I saw a soul.
