Losing, Learning, and Loving

When I close my eyes I can see myself tiptoeing through my sister’s house in Virginia Beach that warm June day.

I very carefully opened the front door, making sure I didn’t make any noise. I checked to see if I had the key with me, and closed the door ever so quietly.

I started to walk so that I could find a tranquil place to meditate for a few minutes. It was six a.m. on Sunday, June 23, 1991.

I hardly slept the night before in anticipation of the big day ahead of me. I wanted to get out of the house early before anyone woke up, to collect my thoughts on this special day that I had waited for so very long.

I was tired but I felt exhilarated. I felt something undefinable at that moment. It was peace and happiness together, something I had not felt the year before.

My adopted two year old son, Alex, and I were living in Santiago, Chile. I was in the US Foreign Service. Alex was born in Pakistan, where I had served for three years before being transferred to Chile.

When Alex was two years and eight months old, he died peacefully in his sleep. The following year was anything but peaceful for me. After his death, I was flown home to New York with little Alex in a box – an unimaginable ending to such a happy life with my little boy.

I had adopted Alex in Pakistan when he was only four days old! He was as much mine as if I had given birth to him. Indeed, he had my crazy sense of humor and we adored each other. I was single. I had been married and divorced many years before, and, seventeen years later, I had still not found my prince. When I adopted Alex, I had just turned forty. He filled my life with unconditional love.

When I returned to my apartment in Santiago about six weeks after his death, I felt empty and very much alone. I put the key in the door and felt an awkward quietness. The sound was deafening.

Alex had filled my life with joy and happiness. How on earth was I going to get over this?

I had been studying metaphysics for many years. I knew that Alex was okay, wherever he was, but his departure created a hole in me and I didn’t know how I was going to survive.
The US Embassy in Santiago had a memorial for Alex. At my apartment later that day, I looked out my bedroom window and saw a double rainbow. I had never seen one before. I took a picture of it and knew that it meant something special. At that time, I didn’t exactly know what it was, but I was about to find out.

I went home to New York and that’s when the pain really hit me. Alex was gone. The pain was unbearable.

I prayed for answers; I prayed for help to get through each day; I prayed to survive.

I had been very involved with the work of the famous psychic Edgar Cayce since I was a young girl in my twenties. I knew that relying on what I had learned was the only way I would get through this trauma.

One day while I was at home, I sat quietly reflecting on my situation. Suddenly, I “felt” that I was not alone. I closed my eyes and knew that I was being protected. I fell asleep and dreamt about Alex. He wanted to let me know that he was okay.

That experience of feeling something bigger than myself gave me the strength to go on. My colleagues and friends in Santiago helped me with encouraging words. I relied on my deep knowledge at this time of spiritual concepts. I fell down, I got up again. I often fainted from the stress, but I knew I would get better.

Several months passed. I very slowly began to pick up the pieces of my life. A gentleman at the embassy named Guillermo had offered to drive me to the doctor whenever I had an appointment after Alex passed away. Guillermo worked in the embassy as the ambassador’s chauffeur.

The conversations Guillermo and I had were always interesting and deep. I was able to discuss my feelings with him, especially about Alex. I poured out my heart to Guillermo. I knew that this man understood my pain. His beautiful light eyes had a knowing in them, a wisdom that took me off guard. But his voice was the killer. It was deep and sexy, but soft at the same time.

Almost a year after Alex passed away, I bumped into Guillermo. He asked when we were going to go out. We had been out together, but only in large groups. I was still feeling very vulnerable and wasn’t sure I was ready for a relationship. When we parted, he kissed me ever so gently and I knew at that moment that I wanted to find out more about the man with the gentle touch and the kind eyes.

And so I did.

Guillermo and I started dating in May 1990. He was everything I had ever dreamed about. He had a deep faith and spoke often about spiritual concepts, but mostly about love. He said that God and love are synonymous and forever. It was then that I fell in love with the man of my dreams.

In the months that followed, Guillermo and I spent as much time together as our jobs allowed. Those months were the happiest of my life.

Those early days of our courtship were wonderful. So much of our relationship was based on a deeply spiritual connection. How else would you describe a relationship where neither person spoke much of the language of the other? I spoke a little Spanish in those early days, but Guillermo didn’t speak any English. We both had to concentrate very hard on what the other person was saying in order to understand. It made for some very interesting conversations!

I remember vividly those first months when we were just getting to know each other. It seemed to me that I had known Guillermo forever. I “felt” him in spiritual ways. He seemed to understand everything about me. He never criticized me. He always helped me see the best in myself. In later years, I thought to myself that God’s love must be like Guillermo’s love, only a thousand times better, and that image was incredible. I had found a gentle and loving soul who loved me unconditionally. I felt pure joy in my heart. I was dizzy and walking on Cloud Nine.

My life was wonderful. I loved my job, and the pain of Alex’s death was lessening. With love in my heart, I was able to see with more clarity. I didn’t know why Alex had to move on, but I knew that there must be a reason. Guillermo’s love was like a warm blanket that always surrounded me. I felt loved and protected.

It was the first anniversary of Alex’s death. I was in a much different place than I had been the year before. I was very grateful for the gift of Guillermo’s love.
In August, he proposed. I accepted.

We planned on a December wedding in Florida. A month after I had reserved a date at the Unity Church, they advised me that the church would not be available during December because they were making renovations.

My sister recommended that we get married in Norfolk, Virginia, at the botanical gardens and then take a boat ride around the Bay in Virginia Beach. That would mean doing the wedding in June, as opposed to December. I was reluctant because Alex had died on June 23rd.

We decided to give my sister some dates in June, and avoided the weekend of the 22nd and 23rd, intentionally.

After going back and forth with the park and the boat people on a possible date, we were informed that only the twenty-second was available. I thought it was strange (so close to Alex’s death on the twenty-third), but accepted the twenty-second.

Two weeks later, we were told that June twenty-second was not available, but that both the ceremony at the botanical gardens and the reception on the chartered boat could be done on Sunday, June twenty-third, the very day that Alex had died.

We knew that this was not a coincidence and realized that this was a sign. We were in awe of this amazing development. We had received a remarkable gift from the above.

The universe gives us information to help us, if we are just open to the signs!

And so it was, on Sunday, June 23, 1991, two years exactly from the date that Alex passed away, that Guillermo and I were married.

I had my prince, at long last.