Signs from Spirit…
A traveling grasshopper sees us home.
It was one of the worst days ever in my life. I had driven my teenage son and I up to Orange County to basically say good-bye to my Dad who was dying of cancer. He was unconscious at this point and laying in a hospital bed in the living room of my childhood home. My mom was nearby coordinating with nurses and homecare workers. My Dad seemed to know what we were saying as he moved his head and his eyes flickered but remained closed. He could not speak. We told him how much we loved him. I said I was sorry for being a pain sometimes and for not always listening to him. I told him thanks for coaching me in softball, helping me with math, chatting about philosophy and life, and for making the choice to be home with us as much as possible while we were growing up. He was a good man and a good role model for my son. Tears were flowing like a river and my heart just simply hurt. My son cried and I held him while we sat in the backyard. He told my Dad all about his new slider and even brought a baseball to demonstrate to him how he held the ball just so. It was beautiful and painful all at the same time. I helped my Mom as much as possible and spoke with my brother about continuing my Dad’s care asking what my Mom needed. The environment was heavy there. So many sad emotions mingled with my childhood memories and how my Dad looked nothing like what I remembered him to be— a vibrant, energetic bear-hugging man who loved to laugh. It was very hard. I knew I couldn’t keep my son there much longer so at dusk, we got back in the car for the long drive back to San Diego. We were spent—body and soul.
I knew I had to stop at the gas station on Seal Beach Boulevard before getting on the 405 freeway south. I started pumping gas as the sun fell behind the horizon. I looked down at the black passenger car door as something bright green was out of place there. I looked closer to find a young grasshopper in a shade of green not unlike a fresh blade of grass in spring. He was just sitting there on the side of the car. There was only concrete around—no planter or anything. He came out of no where. I pointed him out to my son who rolled down the window and looked at him. We smiled. It was a much needed sign of new life when we were filled with despair as my father’s life was ending. I turned on the car and pulled out onto the boulevard. We figured the grasshopper would jump off soon after.
At the next stoplight, we look over and there is the grasshopper on the passenger side window looking in at us. We laugh again. Continuing on, we lose sight of him as we wait in line to turn left onto the freeway. Then out of nowhere, the grasshopper returns to the front windshield of the car right in front of my son. We are shocked but happy to see him there. As I get on the freeway, I ask the grasshopper to jump off as I will worry about him flying off at high speeds. He remains. We smile and laugh again as he holds on as our speed increases from 50 to 60 to 70 miles per hour. He is STILL THERE!
I turn to my son and I say, “This has got to be a message from spirit or from Papa telling us that everything is going to be OK. There can be no other explanation. I can’t believe he is still there.” We take off down the freeway incredulous as this little grasshopper hangs on to our windshield.
Time passes. It’s 30 minutes later and he is still there. My son has now fallen asleep as the weariness of the day has kicked in. I glance over at my friend, the grasshopper, knowing I am not alone. We keep driving past Irvine, past Alijo Hills, past San Juan Capistrano and still the grasshopper remains. I get the feeling he is seeing us home safely and he won’t let go until he knows we will be. It isn’t until we get to San Diego County, maybe around Encinitas, when I look over and see the grasshopper is gone. I am disappointed and hope he is OK (although I’m sure there is little chance of that as I am still on the freeway). But I surely felt the magic of spirit in this dance of the grasshopper on my windshield safely seeing us back to San Diego on a day that was one of my worst. It was a gift—a welcome gift showing me that life goes on and everything will be OK. I am thankful for this sign from spirit and carry on taking my son back home.
My Dad died three days later. That was the last time I saw him here on Earth. I do believe he sent that grasshopper home with us that day. He was still protecting his little girl until the end. I love you, Dad, and miss you so much.
