It’s going on 31/2 years since my mom passed away and almost 4 for my dad. I have concluded that I will forever miss them, but my memories are now tinged less with sadness and more with affection.

When first they passed just 3 months apart, I was leveled. My world crashed, equilibrium lost to devastation. I remember consciously awaiting a sign that they were okay, hopeful that communication with them would not end. Of course communication did end, or at least the kind I was familiar with. However, I did get my signs.

My dad began ringing the chimes that hang from my backdoor patio soon after passing, the same way his fraternal twin sister, my Aunt Laura, did with him. He rang them when I felt overwhelmed, was asking a question, or when I was in need of reassurance. He just rang them now – perhaps as confirmation.

My mother’s sign came only once, but in a big way. My mom was buried on April 4, 2010 – which was Passover and Easter Sunday. She came through in the New York Time’s Sunday crossword puzzle. A copy, framed in gold, hangs outside my home office. She was number 68 across (each number significant because she was 86 when she died). The clue for the 7 letter word was; Open up. The answer was my mother’s name – BLOSSOM.

The meaning of both signs was clear to me. My dad was my protector and he reminds me in weak moments to be strong. My mom was my teacher and she reminds me to open (up) my heart.

It is important not to underestimate what we cannot see, or do not yet, understand.