Over the years, certain unexplainable events have happened in my life.
In the seven-plus years since I met B, just when I would be ready to throw up my hands, walk away, and give up forever, something would happen to draw me back in. Some sign would appear, or some event would happen in one of our lives, and we would reach out to each other again for support. Time and again, I was drawn back into a relationship with B. For most of those years, our relationship did not include sex. An affair is an affair, though. Whether it be a sexual or an emotional affair, don’t kid yourself. You’re either IN, or you’re OUT. There is no such thing as a safe place in an affair. An emotional connection with someone who must remain hidden is damaging to everyone involved. The sexual part of the relationship is much less important than the impact that years of lies can have on your life and the lives of the people who care about you.
In my life, I have had multiple experiences that I would categorize as spiritual. I have witnessed several deaths of people I love deeply. I held my own child as she took her last breath. I think those experiences have given me a unique insight into the “other side.”
About a year ago, I had an experience that took me by surprise, and I have still not been able to fully understand why it happened or what it may have meant.
Since our move two years ago to a place where subdivisions sprout from the earth like the crops back home, T and I have tried to get out to the country on weekends as often as possible. We found a great Cajun restaurant at a marina about a 20-minute drive from our home. Last spring, we went there several times. On our drive, we passed by a large National cemetery. I knew that B’s parents were there. He had told me years ago where they were and about the visits he had made to spend time with them. T was fascinated with the beauty and history of the place, and he commented that he wanted to stop and check it out sometime. One day, he turned the car into the cemetery’s long, winding drive. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The place was immense, but I immediately began to feel some kind of pull. I concentrated. In my mind, I spoke to B’s parents. “Tell me where you are.” I said it over and over in my mind.
Our car wound around the cemetery for about ten minutes working our way further and further in. Suddenly, I said “STOP!” We sat there silently in the car for a few moments, because I didn’t know what to say. I had an overwhelming urge to get out of the car, but I didn’t know what to say to T. I wanted to get out alone, and I said “Wait here. I need to get out for just a moment.” T waited. He didn’t say a word. It was as if we both became possessed, and time stood still.
I got out of the car and walked to B’s parents. It wasn’t a straight line. I had to wind my way back and around to where they were, but there I was…right in front of them as if I had been summoned. Their names were together on a plaque. I had seen no other names as I walked. I wasn’t looking and looking at the names. I had simply gotten out of the car and walked to where they lay.
I stood in front of them, and it took me a few moments to compose myself. I was shaking, and I felt an unreal sense of awe. I had never met one member of B’s family, not even one of his friends. I hadn’t been permitted. I had not been allowed into the inner circle. Standing in front of his parents’ resting place reminded me that I am unworthy. Was I desecrating this sacred place? Was I disturbing their rest? I wondered if I should run away. I waited to be struck down. I bowed my head waiting for the blow.
After several moments, I collected myself and began to talk to them. I told them that I was honored to meet them and that B had told me so much about them and his life as a boy. I told them how much he loved them and missed them. I told them that I loved their son, and I apologized for all of the mistakes he and I had made and for the people we had hurt. I asked them to continue to watch over their son, to help him follow his heart, and to guide him to be a good person. As I walked away, I felt a sense of peace.
I still look back on those moments with wonder. My actions did not seem to be my own. How did I find them? I did some research later. Over 200,000 people are interred this cemetery. How was it possible that I walked right up to B’s parents? What did it mean?
Of course, I considered this a sign not to give up on B, not again, not yet. Surely there had to be some significant, deeper meaning to what had happened. I sent B a text and told him an extremely abbreviated version of what had just happened. He replied, “I love you, b.”
What did it all mean? I’m not sure if it meant anything at all. Beyond the peace I felt, the experience did not appear to have any deeper meaning. Several days later, I told B about what I had experienced. I’m not sure what, if anything, it meant to him. I’m not sure if he believed me or if he fully understood the strangeness of what had happened.
After some days passed, the incident was all but forgotten by B. Like everything else, this was just another experience that happened and was soon forgotten. B lives only in the present. He floats from moment to moment.
What happened yesterday has no impact on tomorrow.
It is what it is.
AOW 