This is the story of B. This is a story of angels and powers that “be”- that reign over us, even when we aren’t paying attention to them. The strength of the spirits beyond us telling us compelling stories through little people. Little people with big energies, carrying messages we as adults are often too distracted to see. This is my story of true awakening. That in learning to just “B”, I have received the greatest gift of all. The angel spirit of my father in my favorite little girl and the protectant powers she embodies.
“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about”
Being in the presence of an angel delivering a message is one of the most surreal and slightly scary experiences you can live. I can tell you this because just under a week ago I lived an encounter with the other side. This story isn’t meant to spook you but merely to make you believe. I hope by the end, you are with me. I have never been more sure in my life.
3 weeks after my father’s passing nearly 10 years ago now, my older sister & cousin Lori became pregnant for the first time. It seemed a miracle to doctors as she should not have had such an easy time conceiving. When she found it was a boy it was clear to us that a male had left the family and a new one was to enter. It gave my mother the much needed energy to focus on life and a gift rather than the painful experience of loss. Lori and her husband Kevin chose to give their son Brennan my father Michael’s name as his middle. He, was extremely special to us and although my father’s spirit was present with us through this child it was too soon for him to have crossed over to the “other side”. It is then, in Brooke’s life that I am now certain he is an angel.
B is for Brooke-the world’s strongest little girl. We’ve always known that, our family, as she came into this world already an anomaly. First medically. Brooke was born with a malformation of her teeth buds, a tumor grew in her mouth at a rampant speed and even the most renowned NYC doctors had trouble diagnosing her condition or how to treat it. Months into her life she was put under several times to ultimately remove this mass. We couldn’t have prayed harder or more than we did as a family. The effects could have been devastating and thanks to God they were considerably minimal compared to what could have been. Brooke, ever since has been the little warrior we all marvel at.
She, in many ways, has always reminded me of myself-as a younger child but also some of the traits I carry to this day. I have always tried my best to spend time with her but know now that our last visit together was the most powerful one. Brookie isn’t interested in being extra girly, she plays soccer, tee-ball and prefers hot wheels to pink bicylces. She plays basketball and wants to be a “football” girl rather than a cheerleader. Her most recent “vice” is wanting to be perfect at everything she does. She gets frustrated when they pull her from a game because she is an overachiever and the other kids don’t stand a chance with her around. Recently I brought her to play basketball with older neighbors and after a few minutes she stomped off and sat in my lap because she wasn’t satisfied that she didn’t keep up. I took that moment as an opportunity to teach her that we can’t be good at everything, maybe not all the time. (Listen up, Lisa 😉 She is little miss independent and she’s tough as nails. She wants to keep up with the boys and isn’t afraid to sweat or get dirty. She is my kinda woman all in a tiny little blond, bony butt body. Though she be but tiny she is fierce! She is 5 years old, the same age I was when my father helped dress me for my kindergarten graduation telling me I could be anything in this world I wanted-even the first female president. It is not an accident then, that this has happened.
When Brooke was 3 years old we lost our grandpa, her great grandpa “Poppy or Sonny” to those who knew him. Grandpa was the world’s most gentle spirit and even toward the end of his life without the ability to speak, the great grandchildren in his life were entirely drawn to him. Brooke was extremely protective of him as a toddler if he’d wander off, an effect of his Alzheimer’s. She was also known to be found with her arms wrapped around his right leg as he attempted to walk along with her in tow. I am certain they communicated, even without speech-as children are known to be more receptive of energy and spirits than we can ever understand. On our walk this past weekend I introduced Brooke to dandelions as wishing flowers. She was ecstatic at the idea and when I asked her what her first wish was she bravely admitted she wished for Poppy to come back to us. She then wished for money-I told you she was a smart cookie. The rest of our walk was full of powerful questions from Brooke to me, sweet affirmations for a recent relationship I’d ended and then a joke about my mom’s driving. All, evident that Brooke’s intellect and spirit are wise beyond her years-or maybe just wise beyond our ability to imagine.
Brooke’s wish came true that evening in the wee hours of the morning as I lay in my room. The same room where my grandfather lived years before, where I’ve slept with a rosary under my pillow and prayed endless prayers through my time there to my father, to God and anyone else who was listening. Just before falling asleep I was startled by a strong presence or energy in my room…to the right of my bed. I shone my cell phone’s light to ensure there wasn’t physically anything/one there and sure enough nothing present. I convinced myself it was late and I should sleep it off. I was blown awake less than 30 minutes later, jarred by the loud sound of wings. So loud and real in fact- from my right ear through to my left and then out the window that I initially thought a bird was present in my room. I laid straight afraid to move or hear it struggling. But that was impossible, my window had a screen and if in fact an animal was in my room it would be making noises. It was wings indeed-but not of a bird. The message in my sleep was very symbolic but after some research and consulting with professionals it is clear that the encounter was to ensure me that this transformation of my life, the next chapter, my move away from home is being supported and I am being accompanied by my angels. They are taking flight with me.
It wasn’t until morning that I could fully piece together the facts. Because they are sheerly not conspiracy but in my mind real hard proof that Brooke embodies the spirit of two strong powerful angels. My father and my grandfather. It is no wonder she has such strong, take no crap, masculine energy-with two protectant spirits channeling through you wouldn’t you say the same? This child has just hours before wished for a visit and spoken to me as an adult on our walk, asking me questions about my personal life (a sign I had prayed to my father for for 9 months), remarking about my mother’s driving (which my father had always hoped for but did not live to see) and then shared in my joy to bring some wishing flowers back to the other female members of our family. At the time we laughed and joked about the flowers winding up in one another’s hair but now I understand the reality of that collective spirit and all those wishes, intentions and prayers all together were a powerful gesture.
My father’s favorite number and the age at which he told the world he stopped aging was 33. In the last weeks since his birthday April 21st, when I committed to a “year of yes” (refer to my previous post entitled YES) the number has been revealed to me on many important/meaningful occasions and in ways I couldn’t possibly invent or look for outright. It just shows itself. The 3 in fact has been entirely present-3, 13 & 33.Brooke was born on the 13th of December, while my grandmother and grandmother were married on the 13th of January. Brooke was 3 when my grandpa passed. My father passed in 2003, 3 weeks after Brennan was conceived. I recently left my previous job after 3 years. I nearly had a fatal accident last year in my new car and was saved-my car has a 33 and a 13 on it and in the license plate. Brooke wore the #3 on her tee-ball jersey last year. I don’t need to continue.
My father saved Brooke’s life as a baby so as not to have our family experience the grief of a lost child. A nearly impossible cross to bear. He saved her life so that he could use her to channel his energy and speak to us through her being. Her potential loss of speech would have been unthinkable-instead he saved that too. It is not then a coincidence that somehow I’ve named my business and brand mygiftmyword-our word is the greatest gift we can give the world and the power of speech and words are endless. Brooke has them because she needs them in this world. She boldly states things and isn’t afraid of much of life. As I attempt to teach Brooke lessons about life and being a little girl who can conquer the world I now see very clearly that it is my father also speaking lessons to me. As he did when I was 5. As he did until he passed when I was 17 and as he does now. Through numbers, through this precious little girl and through my faith. I have learned to “B” and in doing so I have invited incredible powers and the strength of the other side to be revealed to me.
Brooke, in my life, is evidence of divinity, of unwavering strength, of miracles and of love. She is here to teach not only me but the world a lesson-even if I’m the one who will write it so it is somehow, even if in the smallest way life changing for a single person. Brooke has connected me to my dad in a way I could never have imagined. He is showing me exactly the confirmation I have and will continue to need to live this transformation of my life and next chapters. I hear him loud and clear cheering me on. Echoing the last thing he ever wrote to me in his own words.
“I love you in a million different ways, for a million different reasons. Love always your biggest fan, Daddy” 10/18/2003 at 3:17 am.
Aside from her parents, her grandparents, her aunts and uncles (the poor child lacks a fan club) I am proud to say that I recognize my role to be Brooke’s biggest fan.
I now know the series I will write to tell the world stories we all should know-lessons that resonate with little people as well as the elderly. I promise you will know it as soon as they come to life. There are already many notes on the concept just bouncing out of my notebook.
Thank you Brooke, for holding my hand last weekend, for taking that walk with me, essentially you have led me to my fate. I know that my dad is alive and well, wherever he physically is, because she is him and he is her. Thank you Daddy for being my guide, my support, my angel and my biggest fan. Thank you Poppy for coming to fulfill your little sidekick’s wish. For ensuring me you are all with us.
I heard the sound of wings, because I’ve learned how to “B” still and in the presence of God.