The Sand Dollar

I arrived in Florida on that January day, in an airplane full of cold Minnesotans filled with excited anticipation.

I couldn’t help but notice these anxious travelers shedding their sweatshirts for t-shirts as the plane descended. It seemed as if they had no concern that there was likely to be even worse weather upon their return. 

There were no noticeable warm jackets, but they didn’t seem to care. Like most Minnesotans I suppose, they would worry about that when they had to, no sooner. 

The state of Minnesota widely thought of as slightly north of Siberia to many who have not been there, and to many who have.

I noticed that there were no winter boots on the plane, only tennis shoes, and a few brave enough to wear sandals. I quickly dismissed any concern over that as well. Winter boots tucked safely away and now in the past. A vacation in the future and worries of cold already forgotten. 

Everyone seemed full of anticipation of the warmer weather that they would soon encounter. Anticipation and joy plainly seen on each face as they jumped up excitedly to exit the airplane.

The woman next to me turned toward me and asked with a big smile, if I was in Florida for a vacation. I responded “No, I’m here for my brother’s funeral.” She said “Oh” in awkward hesitation. “That’s sad.” Her smile quickly disappearing into a frown as she quickly looked away, respectfully, leaving me to my thoughts.

I had arrived a few days before everyone else and had booked a room on the beach, knowing I needed to get my head around saying the final goodbye to my brother.

I don’t remember caring that the woman on the plane looked away, or how difficult car rental process had been, and it had been. As I drove, quite some time later, in solemn silence across the long Tampa Bay causeway to the gulf beaches of Clearwater, Florida.

The Florida sun did not disappoint, shining brightly on the buildings that filled my memories.

That is where I shared dinner with my brother, Joe, I recalled driving by the all too familiar buildings. I would usually order seafood while he favored prime rib. We always enjoyed our time together and would inevitably laugh the night away. It was as if we were always on an adventure. This new band or that road trip, a festival, my mind was highlighting memories of our light-hearted days together. 

As I passed by the many places we had stopped for a drink, for breakfast or lunch over the years, they seemed to line the way and led me to my thoughts about my destination.

The beach, were we went together so many times, sharing a cabana or sitting at a beach bar for many hours and long days of sunshine, laughter and sharing of our thoughts and dreams.

Every building I passed, the beach we shared was so full of memories, happier times. My feelings that the few days on the beach would help me feel better, now dashed.

I couldn’t feel more heartbroken.

My sense of loss deepening with every special memory, I knew I would need these extra days to wrap my head around what I needed to do, the final goodbye that lay ahead of me in just a few days.

I walked along the beach that afternoon, praying, feeling growing anxiety and agony over the way my brother died. He died without me or other siblings at his side, our parents long gone and no family of his own. 

He had suffered from heart disease. We had been estranged in recent times, not because of the heart disease but due to more complicated issues, ending in disagreement and sorrow.

We had tried to help and had funded the efforts to help for many years, only ending in disappointment. So, estrangement at the time of his death adding to the heartbreak and tugging at our hearts, our minds, and our grief.

Even more so now, knowing that he died and either did not or could not reach out when there were so many words unspoken.

Grief stricken, I prayed as I walked. I prayed for a sign. I wasn’t sure what kind of sign, but a sign of some kind, a sand dollar?

Some people think that sand dollars are messages or gifts from the sea.

A sign that my brother is okay, that he is with God and that our relationship, while separated was not broken. Guilt and anguish enveloped as I walked. I loved him so, and the thought of living without him in my life was too much to think about. The thought that we were not ok at the time of his death, made it a thousand times worse.

I wrote my brother’s eulogy; “We allow two minutes for a eulogy.” they said at the church. I responded that I would need at least three minutes, when I really needed ten. They said two and one-half minutes for a eulogy is all that they could allow as the eulogy should be given elsewhere. I agreed to two and one-half minutes and then, I took five.

The eulogy still too short, I did the best I could with the allowed two and one-half minutes plus the added two and one-half minutes of time that I needed for the best possible version of a condensed message. I even left out a paragraph that I thought my brother would not like as my true intention was to do right by him, I didn’t care about what anyone else thought about the eulogy. In my opinion, it was for him. To honor him and to make him proud.

I walked on the beach with my daughters once they arrived, and we all looked for that sign together, that sand dollar. We all looked for a sign of some kind that my closest brother, their closest Uncle, was okay.

The funeral was respectable and nice, full of meaning and his good friends came. The people in attendance were those that were close to him and I could tell that they loved him as much as I did.

Afterward, we continued our search for that sand dollar on nearby islands, away from the mainland shore and covered with miles of sand and seashells, while boating with a nephew who lives nearby. No sign was found. 

After several more days in Florida which included a trip to Key West, dinners with family and more walks on the beach, my last day in Florida came.

I went to the beach alone that day and walked for miles on the sandy shore, that last day in Florida. I found myself kicking over sand dollar bits but found no whole sand dollar. 

I had asked for signs from God before. Never having received a direct answer, I had to realize it was not likely possible. I know God hears and answers, never directly I thought. One reads about miracles, but that wouldn’t happen an ordinary person like me. My spirit and heart began to sink further as I realized my hope of feeling better soon was wishful thinking, at best.

While sand dollars can be found in many gift shops, finding an unbroken sand dollar on a public beach can be unusual and is considered a special find.

I began to pray for any kind of sign, as the grief and anguish was overwhelming and affecting my ability to function without a heavy heart. I prayed and walked as the day grew old.

At days end, I sat on the cabana chair I had claimed as mine for the day hours earlier, and looked at the water. A dolphin swam by. I smiled and wondered if that was my sign. No, it was nice to see but it was not enough to lift my spirits. 

Now resigned to the fact that I would go home and likely seek grief counseling. 

I would need help, with no sign or relief from my grief, counseling would be needed, knowing my grief was choking me. I began to get up as the sun was about to set. I looked at the empty chair next to me and my jaw dropped.

On it, there was a sand dollar.

Just sitting there. 

Just sitting there, after looking for weeks, praying the whole time.

 Someone had put it there, on the chair, for me.

Are sand dollars reassuring messages of peace from loved ones? Many people think they are a gift from loved ones who have passed.

I felt immediate shock and a warm sense of healing, relief, and I had a feeling of a dark veil lifting off of me and sunlight beaming through. All of a sudden, the sun felt warmer, smiling down on me.

My brother is ok.

Not only is he ok but he still cares, enough to send me a sign and our relationship still full of love and intact.

Was his spirit there in the empty chair next to me?

Was the sand dollar not given to me, but forgotten by a passerby?

Or, was it a gift from God?

I didn’t know and I am not sure it matters. The mystery of it is as much of a blessing as the sign itself.

It was the sign I had been looking for.

I knew at that moment that Joe, my dear brother Joe, was safe, okay, and happy.

Knowing that my brother is okay, and loves me still, I now can be okay. I no longer need grief counseling. I will miss him every day and will always love him, but I can now start to heal my overwhelming grief as I have received my divine message.

I also know I have to share this story so others can be okay too.

If you know this kind of pain, pray and look for your sign.

The next time you find a sand dollar, however you see it, whether it be a sign of peace, or of hope, a Christian symbol, or the presence of angels, it may just be your divine message.

It was the sign I had been looking for.