Berry Good Memories

My ideas about those who've passed may be considered quirky. 

But if you read my blog with any regularity, you should be used to my quirky nature by now.

I believe that those who are no longer with us find a way to communicate from wherever they are. I hear their voices in my heart, and occasionally, I see signs that are proof (at least to me) that they don't want to be forgotten.

I'm a firm believer in the penny thing. That is, when you see a penny, it means someone who died is reaching out. I saw a penny on the ground at my dad's funeral. And from time to time, I'll find one at other appropriate moments. Many folks will pooh-pooh this and call it coincidence.

Ya, whatever.

Last summer, a Rose of Sharon bush sprung up in our yard. Its blossoms returned again this year, and I'm enjoying them very much. The bush reminds me so much of my mom and brings back a lot of memories. Growing up, our backyard had a Rose of Sharon bush that Mom planted. The blooms were lovely, but they attracted bees that created a hazard for us. (The bush was third base, to the consternation of our matriarch.)

This summer, we have a new visitor to our menagerie of plants. As I was the cutting the lawn, I discovered blackberry bushes tucked away on the side of the house. A few days later I returned to collect the bounty, and as I enjoyed their sweet goodness, I was reminded of my childhood. My siblings and I had a spot we'd go to in the summertime to pick blackberries. We'd bring home buckets of them, and my mom would make blackberry pies. 

Alas, the place where we went berry picking was bulldozed a few years ago to make way for some unattractive shops. But the blackberries in my yard brought it all back to me.

A gift of memory.

Maybe when you've lost someone near to you, there's a desire to look for clues in the universe to explain their absence or try to bring them back.

Call it what you will. Call me nutty or quirky or whatever you like.

But I know what I know. And it makes me happy.