the web: gift from a dead husband in 6 parts

About a week ago, I was driving through the wilds of north Georgia when I realized I was near a little junk shop, one seldom visited, and the thought occurred (#1) that I should pop in. 

I wandered backroads until I spied it at the intersection of a couple of old fashioned two lane highways like the ones we traveled when I was little. Parking, I noticed surveying equipment in front of the ramshackle clapboard building and as I headed to the door, I heard a man’s voice shout out, “how tall?” Of course I responded, “five five!” and then I noticed another guy, the one Mr. How Tall was actually speaking to, but this one doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely stand. 

I guess “how tall” is a surveyor question. 

Realizing that, I also lost it, in hysterics over my instant and dutiful answer to a question out of nowhere, but also with the unexpected delight of standing with two strangers in the December sunshine, all of us laughing out loud for the joy of it. (#2)

As I entered the building, an ancient thing, I noticed the very high ceilings, creaky hardwood floors, and one of those hissing standalone heaters that’s almost mandatory in old mercantile structures. It’s the kind of place that feels like home to me, all warm and cozy, and full of potential. 

But then the awareness of something else snagged me. Just to the left of the front door was a space given over to antique furniture and beautiful old works of art. Not masterworks, but people works, with charm and heart, expressions of that need we all have to create something. 

Those things were dreamy, but it was the scent of it all that was electrifying. There was a very special perfume in that particular corner — an elixir of old building, polishing creams and waxes, centuries old wood, aged canvas and oils and paper — and it all combined to take me to a place I suddenly remembered with great clarity. And in that moment, I recognized that I had buried for decades the sweet memories of a very special place and time. 

Mike and I used to go to a country auction outside of Tulsa called Happy Corners. Our spot in the building, next to the blazing heater, was a happy corner of our own. It was sitting with my sweetie laughing and talking while listening to the auctioneer’s chant. It was drinking coffee as that scary old heater kept us all warm and toasty. It was seeing something magical and unexpected that spoke to us both and bidding until we made it our own. It was friendly people, an afternoon of being together, doing what we loved.

The fragrant essence of that long lost auction house was brought to life by the combination of aromatics in that corner of the shop, and that recognition flooded me with memories of my sweet husband. It was once again a winter afternoon with Mike at Happy Corners, sparked to life by a vivid scent memory. (#3)

I hung out there and inhaled as long as I had time for, then made a quick pass through the rest of the building. Old stuff, vintage stuff, mostly the usual stuff one finds in these places, but not much scent and certainly not the same, but then *surprise!* there was the thing. 

Do you know the thing? If you love old stuff as I do, as we did, you will. I once entered  a London store devoted to delicious Chinese and Indian antiques, treasures of the various dynasties and British colonial times. It was so crowded it would have taken a week to see everything. I was enchanted by piles and piles of objects, the unbelievable richness of history and ornamentation, the carving, the details. Heaven!

My friend Suzanne stepped inside, stopped, and looked at me with big eyes. Instead of feeling a sense of excitement and discovery as I did, my ultra-energy-sensitive friend was overwhelmed and had to step outside for air. I made it most of the way to the back corners of the basement, charmed by it all. And, yes, definitely feeling it: the centuries, the people across the ages. Yet in that multi-level to-the-rafters selection of the most amazing objects, the thing wasn’t there. Nothing grabbed me.

But if you are of my type, of Mike’s type, you know the thing when you see it. It sings out. It carries a certain zingy energy, and there is a recognition somehow. Is it something we encountered in another life, another time? I don’t know what that zing is, but I connect and communicate with certain old things in a visceral way. 

So back to the store … It’s Christmas season and Mike and I were collectors. On Christmas mornings, we spoiled each other with fantastic old things we’d acquired throughout the year. One of my favorite collections was a whole case full of English and French pot lids and jugs. If you don’t know them, they’re little stoneware pieces that were used to dispense medicines in old apothecaries and drugstores, and they’re beautifully ornamental.

That was the thing in that dusty old building. It was the little something extra in the web Mike was weaving, a little lagniappe that let me know with certainty that these events weren’t simply by chance. There was #1, the nudge to find the old mercantile, #2, unexpected laughter in the sunshine, #3, the fantastic Happy-Corners-aroma from a forgotten age. And then this fetching little pot sitting and waiting for me on a shelf full of nothing else of interest (and the only thing like it in the shop, and pretty hard to find anywhere except an antiques show). It is just the kind of treasure my honey would have tucked under the tree as a gift. When I saw it, I felt an intense shiver and I knew for sure it was Mike who’d arranged the entire morning’s events. (#4)

So how does this intricate kind of web-weaving work? As I held that pot in my hands, I knew my long dead husband had put it in my mind to hunt up the old junk store. And why sell him short? He was surely guiding my meandering drive from the moment I got in the car.

It was also a reminder of him, that man whose sense of humor was so divine, to laugh with those men on the way in. The scent of the place was like going back in time to hours spent together in the old auction house at Happy Corners. The pot was the final thing, a gift for me, the perfect piece I’ll now use to hold my favorite paintbrushes and to remind me of him every time I use them. And on that pot, the final bit, the words “Perfect Combination.” (#5) We were definitely that. And we still are. 

It’s an intricate web he created, each step verified by my personal indicator of spirit’s presence: snags, shivers, chills, then knowing.

I do hope everyone is feeling the love of those who’ve left the human room this time of year. It can be lonesome and difficult, especially when we’re fresh to grief, but it will get better. Yet even with time, the waves can come crashing in. But with time it’s easier to accept that as the cost of love, of sharing our lives.

It helps that our people are constantly reaching out to us (angels and guides too). Even if you’re not yet catching the signs, know that it’s true (and if you don’t know that, hit me up via email for a host of resources to get you there).

Love is forever, here and hereafter. My husband, dead now for 12 years, gave me a gift for Christmas and I love it.

Happy holy days, dear ones. 

* * * * *

And a little magic with this story. Every day I read the channeled message from my dear friend, the excellent medium Sandy Soulsister. I missed yesterday, so was catching up and the whole thing is a confirmation of every word I’ve written above. That she’s traveling, and recycled this post from Christmas 2022, makes it even more perfect. (#6)

12/24/24  From: 12/23/22

Feel the Love 

in memories past,

sense the magic of

what is presently made,

laughter brings you 

to This Moment,

be it recalling or 

creating new today.

Yes, there are times 

when past and present 

collide,

as in anniversaries 

or holidays,

you remember the 

memories past,

but You as spirit 

experience another 

way.

All you Love flow 

through you now,

You Are together and

are never apart,

you as human know 

there may be change,

but You as Soul are 

Everywhere they are.

Love blends together 

experiences made,

celebrate with All 

you Love so dear,

Love is the language 

of Eternity,

always in This Moment,

All you Love 

are Here!