He Just Shows Up

An Exquisite Sunset 20 May 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

I hope I never take for granted the ways in which Karl continues to reach into my life, metaphorically tapping me on the shoulder or giving me a hug when I need it most. While he is every bit as unpredictable in the afterlife as he was during his life as our son, I have to say – he’s also every bit as tenacious. Indeed, if he has a message to deliver or a situation he feels adamant that needs attention, he will go to great measures to orchestrate circumstances that will enable him to communicate with me – either directly or indirectly. And then, at other times, he just shows up.

For the longest time, especially during the first several months after he died, I didn’t want to hope for any communication from Karl. I was acutely aware of what can happen when those of us left to mourn hang on too tightly to a loved one when they die, especially when the death is sudden or unexpected.

In my work, I’ve had the honor and responsibility to escort souls back to the Source when I discovered them trapped here on Earth. The need for such an intervention is often the result of a death so sudden they don’t realize they’ve passed away, or the person is confused or profoundly fearful of what they might encounter if they allow themselves to ‘move on’ to their next experience. I’ve also experienced situations in which the grief on the part of both the dead and the living is so profound – or wrapped up in a tangle of such complex emotion involving much more than simply ‘love’ – that neither person can move forward until they achieve resolution.

He Was Frustrated Too

There’s no denying that he was actively communicating with me right after his death. But again, I was having an oddly split reaction to it all. On the one hand, I desperately wanted to ask him questions, discover the details, hear his voice, have proof that he – his consciousness – survived the death of his body. And on the other hand, as I said, I was adamant that I not impede his ability to move on. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was hang on to him too tightly.

Knowing what I know, I was certain it would be the furthest thing from impeccable for me to interfere with his evolution. And I was determined that my unconditional love for him and my desire for him to move on to his next set of experiences unimpeded would exceed my mortal, short-term, ego-driven love. The love that balked at being deprived of a parent’s ability to watch their children live their lives, replete with the joys and heartaches living brings.

Only a few months after Karl died, I spent a month in Peru, intensively working through my own grief so I could better support Karl (my husband) and my surviving sons. Karl came through to me both while I was working with the paqos (mountain shamans or medicine people of the high Andes) and with the jungle shamans in the Amazon. He expressed irritation with me that I seemed to be ignoring his attempts to communicate with him. He told me in no uncertain terms that he was frustrated and – knowing this would get me, I suppose – how sad it made him that I seemed to be deliberately refusing to recognize his efforts to communicate and meet him half way.

It’s funny, in retrospect, to realize how successful I was in frustrating my son even after death – simply by trying hard to be the best mother to him that I could; by letting go and doing my best not to hang on.

Startling Appearances

And so, I think in some ways just to get back at me for frustrating the (living?) shit out of him as he tried to communicate with me, he periodically shows up in such startling ways or in such unexpected circumstances that I just have to say, “You got me!”

One such instance was in July of 2017, five and a half years after his death. Karl and I and a few other family members were in Siberia. (You read that right.) We were in the Sayan Mountains and had hiked up to a glacial waterfall where myriad healing waters were accessible. As I made my way to the falls near the very top, I had to step aside to make way for trekkers descending from the falls.

This is what I encountered coming toward me. In Siberia: