Shortly after my father passed away, I was eating lunch with some friends. This was actually the first time I had been out with friends since he passed. His illness was long and hard and messy and unexpected and sad — it was sad.
He had been a smoker for a long time but had actually quit several years earlier, or so we thought — he was a sneaker. His illness started out with a diagnosis that we didn’t expect. It quickly went to a surgery that we didn’t expect with an outcome that we didn’t expect. But, this isn’t about the perils of smoking — I guess it’s your choice if you wish to die a most painful death.
My father loved to google. He loved to research everything on his “more powerful than NASA” computer. My youngest daughter has a nut allergy — fairly severe. I don’t think I can explain the number of links that my father sent me on a daily basis, the number of articles and websites that he bookmarked all about nut allergy’s. He had the same fervor when it came to finding out about lung cancer. When someone said that we had two lungs, he corrected them to say the lung was divided into 5 lobes — 3 on the right and 2 on the left. The surgery to remove his cancerous tumor required the removal of all 3 lobes on the right side. But this story isn’t about lobes, or smoking, or peanut allergies. This story is about pennies and dimes and quarters.
So, back to that restaurant on my first outing after my father passed away. When we sat down at our table, I noticed a lone dime on the table at my place. I didn’t touch it, assuming the waitress must have dropped it (I realize it was only a dime, but still). The waitress approached the table and focused on the dime. She looked at me and asked if I had put it there. I replied no. She was startled and immediately began to tell our table a story of death and reoccurring dimes. She said she began finding dimes everywhere after a dear friend of hers passed away. Her story stuck with me because my father’s death was still so fresh on my heart and because she was so determined that a group of strangers who sat at her table understood her story.
I began to notice dimes everywhere after that — in the laundry, on the floor, on my desk at work, in my car. I know this isn’t unusual. You hear a story — you hope it’s true… you imagine it’s true. I found enough dimes though to spark a google search on the subject. Turns out many people have stories of finding dimes shortly after a loved one passes away. I don’t think believing in Heaven is a pre-requisite for believing a force more powerful than you could be sending you a message in the dimes.
So, my dimes.
I believe my father was letting me know he was ok and that we should move on — I’m a big believer in moving on. In case you’re wondering, when my mother passed away, I didn’t find an unusual amount of dimes… I found quarters — she always was a big spender.