I just finished reading "Making Toast" by Roger Rosenblatt. His daughter Amy died in 2007, when she was 37. Her three children were very young. He is an excellent writer. Reading another family's experience was like reliving our own, in many ways. But he was angry. I am not angry, I just hurt.
He tells of an experience he had while at the train station in NY waiting for their son. He felt a firm touch on his wrist, looked around and saw no one. He wanted it to be Amy. I'm sure it was.
But that reminded me of an experience I should put in black and white. I may have shared it with some, but this is for ....I don't know what.
One day last spring...we had spring last year; this year I'm not so sure. We were doing a few errands. Dad was driving and suddenly all of the gauges on the dash board went flat. I'm not sure if the dash lights went out, too. He called the mechanic as we drove and they talked about what it could be. We went to the IFA Country Store to get some fertilizer. I stayed in the car.
While he was gone I turned the key just to see...you know, things fix themselves, don't they?
Everything worked! I turned it off and waited for Dad. When he got in I suggested he check the gauges. Everything worked, again! I asked Dad if he thought Samantha was just trying to say hello.
I hope so.
