Well, not really; in truth, it disappeared. I know my memory isn’t what it was but I distinctly remember making a decision to put it into a drawer in my lounge. It had become entangled with another necklace which I managed to release, but I didn’t have time to undo all the knots in the chain. Afraid it would be knocked on to the floor if I left it visible, I put it in the drawer for safekeeping until I had time to devote to the frustrating task of unravelling it.
A couple of weeks later I looked in the drawer, intending to sort the necklace out and wear it. It wasn’t there. In disbelief I emptied the drawer, looked inside bags and underneath boxes of matches, searched in the corners. It just wasn’t there.
If it had been any old necklace I would have been incredulous at its disappearance yet not overly concerned, but it wasn’t any old necklace, it was a present from my son for a special birthday. So I searched every drawer, every box, every handbag I possessed; I racked my brains for ideas, returned again and again to the last place I knew it was before put it in the drawer. It wasn’t there.
How could it have disappeared? I was preoccupied, disturbed both by its loss and my seeming inability to recall just what I had done with it.
My friend came to stay. She is very spiritual and often gets messages from my deceased father, which she relays to me. We spent an evening meditating, then we went to bed.
In the morning I heard my friend in the kitchen. I got out of bed and walked towards the bedroom door. The necklace was on the floor next to my dressing table. It was laid out in a straight line, without a single knot in the chain. Writing this I am reliving the sense of absolute disbelief I felt at its return. It just couldn’t have been there; I had walked past that spot dozens of times since I lost it. The experience was so profound I could hardly believe it was happening.
I went downstairs and said to my friend ‘something’s happened’. She said ‘I know, something has happened; your Dad has been here. He told me to tell you to stop worrying, there is nothing wrong’. I froze and told her about the necklace. She was not even surprised.
I put on the necklace; I’m wearing it now. It seems impossible that it’s here. Where did it go? How on Earth did it reappear? What did the experience mean? It feels like my connection with my father gets stronger all the time. Whilst I might have rationalised my past connections with him as imagination or coincidence, the concrete and tangible nature of this experience was impossible to deny or to dismiss. It was like he was shouting ‘I never died, no one dies, please trust me’.
When I doubt myself and the numinous, when I forget that all I have to do is let go of thoughts and words and make a spiritual connection if I want my life to heal, when I struggle to solve difficulties from my restricted world view and fail miserably, I will remember this miraculous experience and its message of trust and hope. What more do I need? How many people on this Earth are given this kind of evidence of our existence after death? Why do I find it so hard to release my habit of struggling with painful situations, when I should know by now that releasing the fears which make me do so clears the way for healing?
I will forgive myself for these failings because without them I might as well not be here to experience this incredible journey. The path is clear and there is help beyond human understanding. We have to trust because we cannot really know, yet all around there are hints and nudges, off-stage whispers and sleights of hand designed to help us establish that trust. It would be so easy to rationalise these experiences as wishful thinking, misinterpretations, simple mistakes. We can choose to accept them for what they are, or let our limited perspective re-frame them as mundane and miss the point.
I thought back many years, reviewed the strange and impossible signs and signals I now see as messages from my father. The time I was worried about my son’s job which seemed under threat and a garbled message superimposed itself on my computer screen, beginning with the words ‘not in danger’. The inscription I found in an old bible in his handwriting when I was in despair. The meditation where he returned, dancing with me on the shores of a lake we knew well. The many dreams in which he featured, guiding and prompting me; and now the necklace. His presence seems so powerful, his will to make peace for the traumas of my childhood and become my guide, teacher and protector so clear.
I am being taught in the most fascinating and personal way that our natural state is at one with these things; attuned to them and open to solutions we can never bring about through the constraints of our intellect alone.
I am left with the thought ‘if my necklace can disappear, then turn up from nowhere just to demonstrate to me that the seemingly impossible can happen, what else is waiting in the wings if I just stop struggling and trust?’
I want to know what will happen, and all I have to do is allow it by standing still and breathing in the peace.