The Sand Dollar
I arrived in Florida on that January day, in an airplane full of cold Minnesotans. I couldn’t help but notice them shedding their sweatshirts for t-shirts as the plane descended. It seemed as if they had no concern that there may be worse weather upon their return as they had no noticeable warm jackets with them, but they didn’t seem to care. Like most Minnesotans I suppose they would worry about that when they had to, no sooner. I noticed that there were no winter boots on the plane, only tennis shoes. I quickly dismissed any concern over that as well. Winter boots tucked safely away and now in the past. A vacation is in the future and worries of cold behind. Everyone full of anticipation at the warmer weather that they would soon encounter.
/more
The woman next to me turned and asked me 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, that’s sad.” Her smile disappeared 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 if the woman on the plane looked away, or how difficult car rental process had been as I drove in solemn silence across the long causeway to the gulf beaches of Clearwater, Florida. The Florida sun did not disappoint and shined brightly on the buildings that filled my memories. That is where I shared dinner with my brother, Joe. The places we stopped for a drink, for breakfast or lunch were many over the years, and they seemed to line the way and led to my thoughts to 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 and laughter. Every building I passed, the beach we shared were so full of memories, happier times. I couldn’t feel more heartbroken.
My sense of loss deepening, 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 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 years, not because of the heart disease but due to even 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? 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 me 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; two minutes they said at the church. I responded with I need three minutes. They said two and one-half minute for a eulogy is all that they could allow as the eulogy should be given elsewhere. I agree 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 took. 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 to 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 beloved brother, their favorite Uncle was okay.
The funeral was respectable and nice, full of meaning and his good friends came. Afterward continued our search for that sand dollar while boating with a nephew who lives in Florida.
After several more days in Florida, a trip to Key West, and back again, dinner with family and more walks on the beach, my last day in Florida came.
I walked for miles on the sandy shore kicking over sand dollar bits but found no whole sand dollar. I began to pray for any kind of sign, as the grief and anguish was overwhelming and affecting my ability to function. I prayed and walked as the day grew old.
At days end I sat on the cabana chair I had rented hours earlier, and looked at the water, a dolphin swam by. I smiled and wondered if that was my sign but, 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 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. Someone had put it there, right there on the chair, for me.
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. My brother is not only ok but still cares and loves me, 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? Was it a gift from God? I didn’t know and don’t care. The mystery of it 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 and okay and happy.
I knew that our relationship was intact and that I could now allow my grief to heal. He cared enough to send me a sign and to want me to know, want me to heal.
Knowing that my brother is okay, I now can be okay. I no longer need grief counseling, as I have received my divine message.
I also knew I had to share this story so others could be okay too.
If you know this kind of pain, pray and look for your sign.
God bless you Joe, I will always love and miss you so.
