Here, there, and everywhere
In the days before Tom’s death, when we knew when he would die and how he would die, our conversation turned to what happens after death. I don’t mean Life After Death as in reincarnation or an angel perched on a puffy cloud. We didn’t talk about that. And I don’t mean ghosts and seances. We didn’t talk about that either.
But we did talk about energy. As that really smart guy, you know, Einstein, said, "Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.” The human body is energy incarnate: electrical, chemical, kinetic, thermal, mechanical. And so, when that part of you that is meat is no longer around, the energy that was you is still around. That’s what we talked about. That was the continuation of life after death.
What does that mean? Tom thought that since his energetic self would still be around, there might be a way of communicating from his “side” to mine. People believe this can happen. There are those who believe in the notion of “thin spaces,” places of energy where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin, where the distance between the worlds collapses and we’re able to catch glimpses.
In the afternoon of the day he died, Tom said he would try to reach out to me. He thought it would be hard. Or take a while. Or be impossible. Or just bullshit. But he’d try.
Was that dream I had a week after his death where he appeared in the meadow with a tractor moving a huge mound of earth a “message”? Was that dream I had a year after he died where he appeared by my (bunk)bedside on the third day of the Camino a “message”? I considered that possibility. I listened. There was that morning, maybe two months ago, when I awoke feeling his presence—I mean the shape and warmth of his body—next to me in bed.
And now this: For the past two weeks, he has been appearing in my dreams (which, I have been recalling every morning—quite odd for me). He is there, in the background, off in the corner, not doing or saying anything, just there. In my non-dream life, there is a reason for him to be watching over us right now, but that is not my story to tell. I can tell you this: On Thanksgiving morning I ran the Turkey Trot 5K, which I have done every year forever. When you cross the finish line, the announcer calls out your name (your bib number is registered).
“And here comes Lauren,” she said over the PA.
A second later, she announced, “And here’s Tom.”
OK. So, some guy named Tom finished the race a second behind me. But come on…tell me this isn’t wonderful and amazing and way beyond coincidence.