No one sends postcards anymore. That’s a shame. A postcard may prove someday to be a humble but emotional link to a loved one.
This may come long after they’ve left their earthly existence.
Did you know there’s a National Postcard Week? This year it’s May 4–10.
Recently, I received a message from heaven. It came via a tattered postcard from Nova Scotia. The heaven-sent note is obviously from my mother. She passed over eight years ago.
You see, it’s an effective way for her to say “hello” because Nova Scotia and my mom were as one. Truthfully, she had a lifelong sizzling love affair with Nova Scotia.
Let me explain:
Crying and Closet Demolition
My husband, and I, are renovating one part of our old home. My mom brought me home from the hospital to this house. I grew up here then left for years.
Eventually, I returned to raise my daughters in the same house. Life would whisk me away again, but I’ve been back in this home for six years now.
Anyway, we tore down a huge closet in a room which was at one time my mother’s bedroom.
Renovating my family home triggered a cauldron of schmaltziness to bubble. I believe it was the result of hundreds of distinct and just as many hazy, memories.
When the old closet came down I experienced a weird emotional reaction of heavy sadness. It pitched me into an uncontrollable outburst of weeping. Every day I still miss my mother.
Enter the Message from Heaven
I began sorting all the gobbledygook we removed from the closet. Some of the boxes, baskets and trash bags belonged to my mother. Some were mine.
OK, time to distract myself from mushiness. Armed with Kleenex, I thought it best to start by digging in to a couple of my boxes instead of moms.
In the first box I open, on top of all the other stuff, there it sits: a postcard my mother sent me 19 years ago from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. I barely remembered it.
Schooner Adventure Lives On
On a beautiful June day, she wrote me a note to say one of her dreams came true: She went out on the Schooner Amoeba.
In her stunning handwriting, she squeezed in all the details she could possibly fit on the little postcard. She covered every available inch with her giddy excitement.
I have no doubt that my mother reached out to put her arms around me at that moment.
Physically, my mother isn’t here with me. However, I’ve now received immeasurable comfort to feel her spirit still radiating within an old postcard from Nova Scotia.
Amoeba Sailing Tours – Roy’s Dream
Image Credit: MorgueFile by Cohdra