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

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

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!

Oh, no! You forgot your Mother!? We didn’t!!!

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Yesterday I visited a gentleman who is a practicing analyst. He is 87 years old, and sees patients five days a week. Several times lately, his mother has come into his conversations. Yesterday, he asked to hear happy stories from me, so I told him I had been working all day in my large and beautiful perennial garden. He asked what flowers I grew, so I told him the bleeding hearts were beautiful this week. He looked at me, startled, and repeated, bleeding hearts. Yes, I said, the red and white are blooming now. He then went on to tell me that they had been his mothers favorite flowers, and he had not heard the term for many, many years. He went on to tell me that she had died when he was nine, but she was the most influential woman in his life. It was so evident in his kind eyes when he spoke of her. Later that day, I cut a bouquet of bleeding heart, some rhodie blooms, and some lambs ear, put all into a old jelly jar, and left it at the entrance of his office. Happy mothers day memories, Dr. I.

By emma gardener on 05/08/2008 1:54 pm

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Emma, How utterly beautiful.

By zut alors on 05/08/2008 2:09 pm

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To think that he lost his mother at nine years of age and yet she has been the most influential woman in his 87 year life says volumes. What a lovely gesture of yours to bring him those flowers in a jam jar and place them at his entrance with, I assume, the note. And you, Emma, with your bleeding hearts are a gardener worth digging with.

By phyllis Doyle Pepe on 05/08/2008 5:34 pm

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Ladies…I didn’t know what ‘bleeding hearts’ were so looked up….here’s a picture. Love those! And now can attach a name to a ‘pretty face.’ http://farm1.static.flickr.com/206/440283995_5c552c4c05_m.jpg

By zut alors on 05/08/2008 7:39 pm

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That was so incredible of you , Emma!

By Liz Seger on 05/08/2008 7:26 pm

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Exquisite. Especially that bit of humor from the other side - those of us who have experienced that connection know that spirits can be incredibly witty!

By Tinka Parker on 05/08/2008 3:22 pm

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My late brother appeared on 9/10. My niece, who was only a year old when he died, had called me to ask about her mortgage. I assumed that’s why I felt his presence. Then the twin towers were hit and I panicked because she took the subway that went under. She wasn’t on it when the hits came and called me right away. And I knew why my brother had appeared. He had been a history professor and lived for world events. SO HE WOULDN’t LEAVE. Finally, after the ceremony at the National Cathedral I told him it was time to go! I feel like my mother, who died two years ago, is still around. I laugh at my persistent family!

By Flora Dora on 05/08/2008 6:28 pm

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Thank you for this, Mary. It is truly beautiful, and you clearly are an insightful person to have experienced that so fearlessly. My mother wandered about for several days after she died, going to a concert to hear one of her godchildren sing, helping my cousin figure out what to do with old junk on the farm, helping my brothers figure out her funeral arrangements, and so on. I think it was a mark of her that we just accepted that this was part of things, that she would come calling. My grandmother showed up to talk to me the weekend my father died, to tell me they were waiting for him. I feel blessed that I was raised to take life on its terms so even death “shall have no dominion….” Mazel tov, Mary!

By Mugsy Peabody on 05/08/2008 6:34 pm

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Mugsy, “I feel blessed that I was raised to take life on its terms so even death “shall have no dominion….” Lucky you…no wonder you seem to be such a solid, sensible person.

By zut alors on 05/08/2008 9:20 pm

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Lily—Here you are! Loved your post. And wanted you to see this LOL link a friend sent me of very funny cats. http://farm1.static.flickr.com/206/440283995_5c552c4c05_m.jp Your post reminded me of Sharon Stone’s near death experience from an 11-day brain hemorrhage. “My head blew up. I had two unbelievably painful shots in the left side of my head that physically knocked me over to the couch. I had a ‘white light’ experience. It was beautiful and very illuminating. became unconscious, and I really sort of went into the vortex of that white light, and…it’s very, very beautiful, and very comforting, and very peaceful, and quiet, and clean.” Unfortunately, during recovery her marriage broke-up to Phil Bronstein, executive editor of the San Francisco Chronicle. She lived here in the City and was very popular for her philanthropic activities. I saw one night around Christmas while doing my ‘sherpa’ scaling of steep Powell Street from Union Sq. back up to Nob Hill where I lived near the Fairmont /Mark Hopkins/Huntington Hotels. I stopped at a corner for the light and heard a beautiful voice behind me and turned. Sharon Stone and her husband were conversing with the famous “twins’ of San Franciso that you see everywhere. http://www.sfgate.com/traveler/postcards/browntwins.jpg I’ve rarely seen such a beautiful picture. With all the holiday lights twinkling behind her, the cable car was clanging up the hill with all the tourists loaded with shopping bags, laughing and hooting over the 45 degree angle. Stones cheeks red with the cold, she looked very healthy, relaxed and fresh, and with that shimmery gold hair she made a warm friendly presence. And her husband is very handsome and charming too. This is a sweet pix but they looked infinitely better that holiday season night. http://www.usatoday.com/life/gallery/wedding/stone.jpg So many in SF were sad to see that beautiful couple split-up, and that she moved away. She’s a very credible, decent and giving lady.

By zut alors on 05/08/2008 9:02 pm

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How wonderful to read all of these amazing accounts. They are really comforting. Makes the future worth looking into.

By Estimada C on 05/08/2008 8:44 pm

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durring the great depression I spent a whole summer on the back porch foot in traction and woozie.An unknown man knocked,there were words and he sat waiting. She returned with a piping hot plate of food and coffee.After he finnished he gave another tap,returning the plate and the mug. I was so proud of her.And with such grace.

By Charles Dance on 05/08/2008 8:58 pm

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CCD-That’s makes a lovely picture…my grandmother told me of that happening in their house too during the Depression because her father was a City official and they had a ‘landmark’ easy to spot house. When he met hungry people he’d say to go over and around back to the kitchen door and the cook would be there happy to feed them. Nana said the groceries would be delivered from the store and practically go right back out. It’s nice to be in a position to make even one person’s life better, while maintaining that person’s dignity, as you said, with grace….I’d have been proud too. Very wonderful clear picture, loved reading it….thank you.

By zut alors on 05/08/2008 9:13 pm

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I freind of mine is a visionary artist, which put simply ~ she draws/paints those from the other side. On my 50th birthday she did a wall painting for me, on my birthday itself it was only partially done, but I got a glimpse and that was it. Three months later, I went to pick it up and I have used it for a book jacket, but the picture had to be flipped for the jacket, but the femine image in the picture when I seen her, the tears started rolling like they had not done since my mom died. My friend had never met my mom. I asked her if she knew who she had painted, and she said no, that I would know who it was. It was my mom as she was early in life. The picture hangs on my living room wall, and now instead of tears, it is just nice to know that she was part of a very special birthday! I have been an open channel all my life, but also hid it from my very religous mom. At the end when she was on a ventilator, my oldest sister sat down next to her as she slept and said “mom always thought she saw angels and spirits like Grandma did” then she blew me a rasberry. I found out at the end when there was no more conversation, that mom and I shared a whole lot more than I ever realized. Happy Mother’s day to all mom’s from all sides. Linda

By Linda Myers on 05/08/2008 10:39 pm

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My mother, who lost her mother, Marie, at age 4, is very fearful of flying. When my mother was expected to fly out to see me two years ago, she was fearful, and then said she had a dream, “about Marie. And I never dream about Marie. I told her that I was afraid to die, and she said: it’s OK, we all have to die sometime.” And my mother was able to make the flight without much fear. That was a small miracle, and I believe that it was real.

By Bella Mia on 05/08/2008 11:50 pm