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Mary Wells | 05/08/2008 10:10 am

'Eight Months After She Died, She Appeared – Promise Kept!'

Mary Wells

I am my mother in most ways – except she would have preferred to be blond. We are the kind that keeps going.

The house can fall down, the trees can turn red, the men in our life can disappear, the money can run out; we keep going.

My blessed editor at Knopf, maybe the best teacher I ever had, once asked me what I thought my book was about and I said, "love," and she said, "Oh no, it’s about going on. You always keep going." She was so right. I got that from my mother. Her German parents wouldn’t send her to college – the boys went. She showed them. She married a Norwegian from Minnesota who had just returned from Paris and the war.

She thought he would give her a glamorous life. When he couldn’t muster the ambition, she waited a while and then she and I gave her and us a glamorous life — not with diamonds — with experiences. She loved to learn and wanted to see and know everything. We had an agreement that whichever of us died first would return and, with a code that only we would understand, we would let each other know things were just fine. And about eight months after she died, she appeared at the end of my bed in France in the early morning and said, "Mary, I think you should know Cass died." Cass had been a friend when I was small in Poland, Ohio. No one knew her except my mother and it had been forty years since I had thought of her. So I knew my mother was fine.

Once, I meditated on my mother and was wondering what she was up to and I heard a voice say, "She misses not knowing where you are." Which I thought was a very funny reply. In her later years she used to want to know everywhere I’d been. I guess now she knows everywhere I’ve been. So, happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I bet you’re wowed by these women!


60 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment

zut alors
Maurine- “Sometimes I carry the memory of her scent, her smile, one of her hundreds of expressions, or her laughter around with me for a whole day- like a fresh handkerchief in my pocket.”—Beautiful. Mothers prove quantum physics and what Einstein said, there is no division between the spiritual and physical world. “She knows where you are.” And wasn’t THAT ominous to realize when we were teenagers? Ha!
By zut alors on 05/08/2008 12:37 pm
phyllis Doyle Pepe
Letter to a Mother: You’ve kept me alive; you’ve been my country and my compass and the one true warmth of my heart. Your life is the only faith I have; it’s a light that never failed and that has kept me warm. You must know that I have been thanking you all my life.
By phyllis Doyle Pepe on 05/08/2008 1:13 pm
zut alors
Phyllis—Another beautiful thing to read and keep. Thank you.
By zut alors on 05/08/2008 7:09 pm
Liz Seger
Mary beautiful story ? Suzanne best wishes that your dad gets well soon . Thoughts and prayers around him and you. Both my parents have shown me they’re with me. First year I was living on my own in my new apt, my dad ‘s pipe smell was all over the place when I came home very late or very early in the morning that first New Year’s. I knew he’d been waiting up for me to come back. My mum wore one of the Prince Machabelli scents when I was young and around Christmas of 99 when I was very depressed around the holiday I kept smelling her scent and vanilla in my bedroom, the living room , the kitchen. A lady who spoke to angels was on a local radio show I was listening to and when she and the host answered the line I was on just after I said my name (no screener) she said oh your mother and gramma , the one who died before you were born, are around you and want to wish you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and not to worry about money and things, everything will be fine. I nearly fell off my bed. And it has been fine. Gramma was visiting earlier this week, just before I had a interview about volunteering for a seniors’ program where I call once a week and chat with senior ladies to see how they’re doing. I took her visit as a nod of approval. I’ve had my grandfather appear to a male friend who wasn’t even born when Grampa died , to tell me to write more in the paper ja? So I do believe that just because our loved ones cross over doesn’t mean they’re aren’t still with us , we just have to keep open to the idea that we really are never alone.
By Liz Seger on 05/08/2008 1:22 pm
zut alors
Liz—-Loved this…my dad smoked a pipe too….always loved the aroma of pipe smoke for that reason. Thank you very much for your thought for Dad. He’s still in ICU but slightly better today. I just kept thinking yesterday…please one more Father’s Day. I know he’ll try his upmost….especially for ‘Chance’…his greatly beloved dog!!
By zut alors on 05/08/2008 2:34 pm
Linda Clark
My dad had a stroke in September 2000 followed by a diagnosis of lung cancer in February 2001. We were all devastated! His physical therapy was a miserable experience and he was ready to give up on everything. We researched everything we could about cancer and his prognosis. In late February, I received, what I’ll call a “gift”. The gift was a “point of view”. That when ever I talked to or about my dad; or whenever I thought about my dad …. to see him as healthy and strong. I cannot assure anyone as to how this gift might possibly affect your loved ones; but for my dad …. It has been eight years now and he’s cancer free (without surgery, chemo or radiation). He has regained the use of his leg well enough to drive again(he ended the physical therapy against his doctors’ wishes). He’s driven so much since then that he’s on his third car (VW Bug). Some events just can’t be explained, they are what they are …. “gifts”
By Linda Clark on 05/08/2008 3:14 pm
phyllis Doyle Pepe
That’s an incredible story, Linda. How lucky for your dad that he has a family that gives him such positive support. There might,of course, be a physiological reason for his recovery, but as we have discovered the power of mindset is credible. Good luck to your dad––zoom, zoom in his buggy balloon.
By phyllis Doyle Pepe on 05/08/2008 5:21 pm
Linda Clark
Thank you Phyllis, and you’re right, there could very well be a physiological reason. It was simply astonishing that with zero treaments, there was no trace of the cancer. We absolutely count our blessings everyday!
By Linda Clark on 05/08/2008 6:55 pm
zut alors
Linda-This is perfect….yesterday was a huge shock…today is better….and this is a great way to think. Can’t hurt, that’s for sure. Will do, and thank you.
By zut alors on 05/08/2008 7:15 pm
Maurine H
Yes, Suzanne- good thoughts for your dad’s recovery coming your way.
By Maurine H on 05/08/2008 5:31 pm
zut alors
Thank you Maurine-and I was looking for Lili of the Valley (fellow Cat-Person) to pass on this hysterical link of cats doing weird and wacky things. Am sure there are more cat lovers here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfVpVZsiscY&feature=bz302
By zut alors on 05/08/2008 7:33 pm
Maurine H
Suzanne - I showed the video to my cat and he said something that sounded like “those canNOT be my peeps!” (He has a bit of an inflated ego if truth be told.)
By Maurine H on 05/08/2008 11:13 pm
Liz Seger
That should have read beautiful story Mary ! Achy fingers today .
By Liz Seger on 05/08/2008 1:28 pm
Liz Seger
It might be nice if when we respond to an article say like the political correctness one with Lily, Marlo , Joan Juliet and Jane that one or all of them give it a kind of closure or final comment to let us know that they read it.
By Liz Seger on 05/08/2008 1:35 pm
Mugsy Peabody
You might send them this on the comments, Liz. It is a pretty terrific idea, after all.
By Mugsy Peabody on 05/12/2008 4:50 am