Dimes

Like pennies from heaven, a symbol of love from above

I bend over to pick up a shiny dime laying in the middle of the road. It’s from 2007, the year that Jonathan was killed. I smile. Yeah, I’m doing ok, buddy.
 
I haven’t found a dime in a long time. When he first died, I found dimes almost daily, little love notes from heaven letting me know that even though he was gone, my best friend was still looking out for me. In the years that followed, I still found dimes with an odd frequency; I had stacks ten or fifteen high sitting on my windowsill, my kitchen counter, my closet. I’d spend them if I needed coffee or laundry, reasoning that once they were received, the message was received.
 
I hadn’t found a dime since I’d moved to California, which wasn’t unsettling in an outward way, but when I thought about it, it was slightly unnerving. Did he not approve of my move?
 
Jonathan was my best best friend, patient teacher of unconditional love and unconditional forgiveness even after his death. I often felt his presence or spirit as I drove in my car, went to sleep at night, or went on a run. As the seven years since he died have flown by, his presence becomes harder to feel.
 
At various points over the years, friends and family would feel his spirit too or feel like they got “messages” from Jonathan for me. It makes sense: if I had tuned him out while he was alive, he would have done the same—reached me by whatever means possible. That steadfast determination was a huge part of his personality. Recently, DailyHap writer Jayne Clark, who works with intuition, felt like Jonathan’s spirit was “bugging” her to give me a message. 
 
The message was incredible, on point to everything going on in my life right now—and there’s no way Jayne, who I don’t talk to regularly, could have known most of it. I cried and cried as she relayed the message.
 
But after the initial cry, my reaction surprised me: anger.
 
I am really, really mad at Jonathan. How could he leave me? How could he die and leave me without my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, my confidante about anything and everything? How could he expect me to keep believing in him and that he’s still looking out for me when he’s GONE?
 
I’m still mad. But now I begin to forgive—both him and me. Now I begin to “reach out” to him, to be open to his presence, to be receptive to his love from above. Now I begin to search inside myself for the safe harbor he helped me create—his unwavering support and love was important, but what it really did was build a foundation of support and self-love within me. I stopped tending to that foundation, and this latest series of messages was an un-subtle reminder to get back to it.
 
So a few days after really hearing Jonathan for the first time in a long time, I found that dime. I’m open to listening again.
 
I bend over to pick up a shiny dime laying in the middle of the road. It’s from 2007, the year that Jonathan was killed. I smile. Yeah, I’m doing ok, buddy.
 
For more stories about this friendship, check out Smelly Travel Can Open Up a Heart or A Cab to the Airport.

Category: Belief

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