Dear Kelly, November 23, 2009
I was going to name you Connor but decided on Kelly, another good Irish name… gosh that was 31 years ago…wow…now we are thinking about baby names again. We had named your sister Meagan, who is now due to have her second child at any moment.
You left us, my son, when that veil between our worlds separated briefly and you stepped through. December 1st is always a grim reminder of that calendar day. It is approaching fast, like fierce storm clouds gathering on the far horizon; a dog howling deep down and fearful of a storm he can only sense; I feel an uneasiness within my soul; a bone itch I cannot scratch.
When the November winds blow hard and scatter the summer’s debris into the steel gray dulling skies I remember you. When the pure white hoar frost covers the ground in the brilliant white of angel wings I think about you. When the branches of every tree, every shrub every twig glisten with frozen drops of early dew I think about you. When the wood fire smoke from a cozy home far off in the distance drifts enchantingly into my chilled nostrils, I think about you.
When I hear distant gunfire far off beyond the woods, and I imagine so many deer running and geese flying for their lives and I think about you. When I see that wild turkey on the side of the road I think about you. When I smell pumpkin pie cooking in the kitchen I think about you. When I see those first couple of snowflakes appearing like a few small feathers on the wind I think of you. For most of November you were dying, my son, and when the annual return of autumn’s portents are on the wind, I again feel that bone itch that I cannot scratch and I think about you.
Those last days of November were your last days on earth; while we lived them I did not think of them that way; only that each minute was today. I surely knew that you were going to die but hopefully we had more weeks or more months before we would say goodbye. We had food stacked up, friends, family and doctors on call and we had rented movies stacked to the ceiling.
I know you were in lots of pain, but you did always tell us how you were feeling. Occasionally we would go for walks, looking like two ancient old men holding on to each other coming back late from the country pub. It was hard and painful for you but we did it, the autumn air seemed to calm your anxious soul and I could hold you tightly and bury my nose in your scruffy hair, a memory that is still intoxicating to my soul. Everything about November brings memories of you.
My heart still aches missing your embrace, but am so grateful for your many signs and visits you have gifted to us through these many years. I have been told by a psychic you are coming back to our family as this baby about to be born to your sister. If that is true and even possible at all, I rejoice in that miracle, if you are not back as this child, and only the guardian angel of our grandchild I rejoice in that miracle, if you are just a messenger with the good news of that baby that is too bless our lives, I rejoice in that miracle. If this means we will no longer get signs from you, I am thankful for ones we have received and I rejoice in those miracles.
This Thanksgiving I rejoice in the miracle that is you. I know before you left us in spirit, you and your mother created a code word so you could get back to us. I know you have used it many times to lift our spirits through the years, but I think never as significant as this year. The word you chose and now the world knows, was “turkey”. Thank you, Kelly, for being such a good son. I will be your dad for eternity.
I love you,
Dad
To my readers: Now this November my daughter is about ready to birth, to bring another gift from God to grace this planet earth. I find myself waiting with joy, fear, trepidation, excitement yet with an inner feeling of an anticipation and angst I cannot describe. The parallel of waiting for my child to die and enter a whole new sphere of existence and that of my grandchild who is doing the same I guess may be “the meaning in life” we all search for. That little soul within my daughter’s womb is frightened of the unknown but yet anxious to get there. I am sure that is how my son Kelly felt; fearful to leave all he has known but curious to go to the light that gently called his name.
Laughter and tears are shed when a child is born, laughter and tears also usher us out when we are gone. The meaning in life simply one transition waiting for the next transition. In between we dance.
Peace Love and Light
Mitch
Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts~please keep us all posted on the arrival of your dear grandchild~ and Kelly, you keep shining on!
Thank you Andrea and Beth for your comments. Yes my granddaughter is born and was born on 22nd angel date of our son Kelly. Her name is Olivia Kelly. I cannot put into words all I feel so I put it in a poem to Olivia to be given to her on her 16th birthday: …let the good times roll
Dark clouds enveloped my life
when my dear son stepped through the veil
he went through very gently
did not cry, he did not wail
His tears were shed in earlier years
and the last few months of continual pain
his body wracked and tired
his soul could no longer remain
The very moment he took his last breath
I was staring into his eyes
I could no longer see my son
…only windows into the soul of someone very wise
I lost all focus
the world around me started to dim
my son and I did an eye dance
to a music from within
I looked into the eyes of God
and He spoke with words heard only within my heart
Yes I am taking your son home now
it is finished; he has done his part
In that brief nanosecond of time
I felt an instantaneous connection with all that is
I knew I was looking into the eyes
of everyone who has ever lived
We are all connected at some cosmic cellular level
from quarks to super novas expanding out in space
it all comes down to vibrations
why not the human race?
I looked into my own soul that day
and into the eyes of our infinite creator
I saw the light and watched it go out
the curtain pulled on my son’s theater
His thin and frail body had now expired
and his spirit returned to cosmic light
the sparkle in his eyes gone; the portal then quickly shut
and I began my darkest night
It seemed something left my soul that day
I feel an emptiness I can’t describe
some part of me left with my son
as I crumbled to the floor and cried
Now 22 years later on this very day
The portal again has opened wide
A child has been born back into my life
And I am standing tall with pride
The cosmic curtain a two way street
For those souls leaving and for those who arrive
Maybe my son is coming back
As this bundle of joy so pink and so alive
Perhaps life is not just a one act play
And my son still has a second act
The curtain now again opening
How do I react?
If it truly is my son’s spirit that
That somehow has returned to play a second role
I will not discuss the plays first act
But we will know it soul to soul
This child has a birthright to itself
With its own pathway to discover
To complete the plays second act
Without baggage from the other
So I keep it a heavenly secret
As I now stare into her eyes
And watch this child dance her dance
A dance she must fully realize
She will dance her dance and learn her steps
With no conscious memory of a life past
But in a greater plan at a deeper level
I feel her life will be enhanced
We cannot comprehend the mind of God
man is incapable of describing what we do not know
so I prefer to believe in life’s magic
…and let the good times roll.
For Olivia Kelly 12-1-09 -Papa Carmody
Mr. Carmody,
I just came across your beautiful article as I think of my Son Chance’s death 6 years ago in a car accident at the age of 30. I was privilaged to have an acquaintance of yours, Alan Pederson perform at our TCF meeting in Feb. of this year.
I took him to breakfast and we talked alot. I shared that I had lost my brother and sister as teenagers and my granddaughter to SIDS at 6 months, then my son. He told me about your being told Kelly would return as your granddaughter. I was very shocked as I was told a few months after Chance died that he would return as a child of a brother or like a brother and sure enough I found out a few days later his best friend and like a brother and his wife were expecting. They, of course know nothing of this but they named her after both of Chance’s former Mother-in-laws-first name and middle name and she was born 10 months after his death. I never told anyone this story until Alan told me about you. I still get messages from him and feel him close to me. I am now the chapter leader of our local TCF.