lo nett: hello from a dead husband

I don’t often ask my guides or loved ones for signs these days. I don’t really ask them for much at all because I have such certainty they are with me. It would be like elbowing my sister as we’re driving across town. “Yo! Send me something, yeah? Toss me a penny, maybe float a feather this way.”

There is an impossible-to-describe sense of safety and security in knowing the truth now about what happens when we die. From crushing, ruinous grief to this delicious state of being seems like an impossible journey but it turned out to be no journey at all. Everything I needed was already inside of me. I just didn’t know it. Coming to that awareness was a bit of a challenge, but there was never any chance I wouldn’t make it. Once the quest begins, it’s hard to stop.

A few days ago, though, I did ask. I wasn’t specific as I have often been in the past. I just said “Send me something, please. Your choice, but make sure it’s obvious enough that I won’t miss it. You know how I am.

Before leaving the house I took my little heart dog Boo for a walk and as I stepped up on the curb, there was a feather, the sign I only get from a guide I first became aware of two years ago.

Feathers are a common sign for many people, but not for me. Not before I strolled through the hotel at Ojo Caliente in New Mexico two years ago, and suddenly became aware of a big presence strolling right along with me. This happened the day after a remarkable experience with my friend Raven, a healer and shaman who facilitated a complete rearrangement of some very old and hurtful beliefs and memories. That wild tale, though, is for another day.

Suffice to say feathers have never been a thing for me, so when they come, I know who they’re from. I said a happy hello and thank you to that guide, walked Boo, and took off for the day. Good start, guys. Please keep it up.

I’ve lived in Atlanta since September and the hardest thing about leaving Tulsa was the dear friends I left behind. One woman in particular is a sister of my heart. I met her in a widows group seven years ago and we became close friends. Though we see each other on Facebook and have texted a few times, we’ve not communicated much since I left, so I was delighted when I got an unexpected message from Tracy.

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Tracy’s text explains it better than I can. She knew, my friend who lost her husband a month after Mike died. Tracy has since opened her heart to knowing that love never dies and thus she knew it was important. As she said later on the phone, “I had to text you. I normally wouldn’t, but I couldn’t just let it go.” That’s how messages relayed from others seem to work. They come with a sense of urgency about passing it on.

My response was YES! Yes he called me Nett. When he’d come home from work, he’d walk in the door and say that very thing: “‘lo Nett.” I could even hear it in his vibrant, deep voice as I read the text. “Lo Nett, how was your day, baby?” This was Mike, my husband and my soulmate.

If I hadn’t known it instantly from the words, it was clearly evident in the physical effect of this message. The warmth and sensation of a hug from Mike. It was fleeting, but very real. And then, just to make sure, another confirmation. Almost instantly after texting Tracy back I glanced at the display on my car’s dash and saw this.

“I feel love.” And the numbers 444. I’m not a big numbers person, but I am aware of repeating numbers and the wealth of information out there about what they mean. The essence of this message was simple: trust your intuition and your guidance, all is well. The title of the song alone was great, but coupled with the numbers, it was a flat out “Hey! I’m really here! Trust this!”

I love how our people in spirit will use our friends and family members, sometimes even complete strangers in passing cars, to pass on messages of love. “Lo Nett, I feel love. All is well.”

Next morning, one more hello when my friend Patty, also a medium, posted a photo on Facebook for a mutual friend. And then she added a note to her post saying that my name had appeared in the upper left corner of her screen as she was uploading the image. The post was for Chuck. It had nothing to do with me. Why would my name randomly show up there?

This, too, was a message. One that I have received directly from my husband in readings. The two figures holding hands with the words “it’s beautiful.” It couldn’t be more perfect. He’s said it over and over. “I’ll come get you when it’s time. It’s so beautiful here.”

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It’s the same divine message I received from my friend Valerie, a medium and artist, when she was guided to send me one of her beautiful spirit-inspired angel paintings. Two figures holding hands on a beach. Mike, me, and our happy place. I had no doubt this, too, was a hello from my sweetheart.

So the response to my simple question, “send me something please, but make it obvious,” was more than I could have imagined. If I’d confined it, asking for something very specific, as I have so often done, no doubt they would have provided and it would have been great. It wasn’t long before this series of events, that I’d asked my guides for one unusual word and *boom* a few hours later, there it was. The awe and wonder of that kind of thing will never get old.

But this open-hearted “send me something” allowed for the infinite creativity of spirit to express itself. I can almost imagine their glee upon receiving it. “Oh boy, we can pull out the stops. No restrictions. Let’s play. What fun!!” It was the difference between paint by numbers — which is beautiful — and a freestyle, flowing work of art. It was appetizer, (the feather), main course (Lo Nett, I Feel Love, a flash of a hug), and dessert (It’s Beautiful). AND it drew two others into the gift, Tracy and Patty, thus spreading the love and the promise.

I throw these stories out into the world hoping someone, somewhere, will find something here that assuages the heartache and pain that comes with loss. A little hope, maybe. No, it doesn’t take away the pain when we know the truth, but holy cow, it helps. A lot.

Ask your people to show you they’re around and they’ll do it. Trust what comes and say thank you. And then refrain from explaining it away in your mind when the seemingly impossible happens. To find all of the reasons why it wasn’t a perfect little miracle, a hello from the other side, is the same as opening a gift, and then tossing it in the trash in front of the giver.

We are so very deeply loved, in ways and with an intensity beyond our human imagining. Our people who’ve crossed over want more than anything for us to find peace and healing. They know we’ll be together again, soon enough. And while we’re waiting to go Home, we can experience the little comforts that come when they break through and we set aside our human state to receive those gifts.

There is a welcoming party even now planning a celebration for you, for me, for all of us. They’re watching over us in our lives here, celebrating ~ and no doubt laughing at ~ our human experiences, and knowing that we will, soon enough, be together again. The signs of their presence help while we’re living our lives here. Ask and you will receive.