My wife’s father died very suddenly. We were on vacation at the time, trying to get cozy in a quaint little cabin in the Rocky Mountains. We had known for a few days that he was sick, and on that last night – our first anniversary- he told us to keep traveling because we would need the rest to come back and help him fight.
He didn’t survive the night. We got the call in the very early morning and immediately began our mad dash across the mountains, through the painted Utah desert, and back to southern California to help the family prepare for the funeral. At one point, as we were barreling at dangerous speeds somewhere near the Continental Divide, we got hit with a sudden, freak rainstorm. Now, that type of thing happens a lot in Colorado, and, indeed, all across the Midwest. But when we looked up, the sky was completely clear and blue. There was not a single cloud anywhere near us.
The storm went away almost as quickly as it had come. We didn’t have time to seek for a logical explanation, but she emphatically stated that it was her dad telling her, “Slow down: the family needs you to arrive safely more than they need you quickly. Enjoy at least some of the beautiful scenery around you.” It’s the kind of thing he would have said.
Was it really her dad speaking to her from beyond the veil? I don’t know. We weren’t even Pagans then. What I do know is that it made her feel better. It comforted her. That’s all that really mattered.
The Oscar-nominated film Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close sensitively depicts a similar situation. Nine-year old Oskar Schell’s (Thomas Horn) father, Thomas (Tom Hanks) is one of the thousands of victims of 9/11. Incredibly attached to his father, young Oskar is left without a rudder. He is fearful, angry, vulnerable, and obsessed with the six tragic phone messages left by his father as the building burned toward destruction.
The one thing he has to keep his father’s memory alive is a treasure hunt. Before his death, Thomas used to challenge his son with treasure hunts around Manhattan. Oskar would eagerly dissect the island and search for the answer. When Oskar finds a mysterious key in his dad’s belongings, coupled with strange messages his father circled in the newspaper the night before he died, the hunt is on. Oskar sees this as a new challenge: find the lock that fits the key and, in the process, find out what his dad wanted him to know. And keep the memory alive just a little bit longer.
Was the key placed intentionally? Was Thomas Schell really sending messages to his son from beyond the grave? I’m not going to spoil that. What matters is that it gave the child a direction. It gave him the chance to spend his time and energy connecting with his father and doing something he loved, healing some of his wounds in the process. It’s not an easy journey; few healing journeys are. If healing happens, it doesn’t matter whether his dad was talking to him.
My wife continues to receive messages from her father. Not long ago, she listened to a podcast hosted by Spiritman Joseph Tittel in which the host said that pennies left on the ground are messages from beyond. Since then, she has found pennies galore. I’m not just talking about the odd penny we all find here and there. Like the unexplainable rain, she finds them in the strangest places. She’ll turn her head for a second, turn back and find a penny lying there. Once, she got into the driver’s seat in our car, and entire pocketful of change was spewed over the ground. As the last person to drive the car that day, I can verify that those pennies were not there before.
One time, we were at a play and got up for intermission. When we returned, and entire army of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters were on the ground right in front of her seat. We asked the people in front of us, but they didn’t think the coins were theirs. She believes these random coins are messages from her father. They seem to occur right when she needs them to. As a witness to the physical event, it is often hard for me to think of other explanations.
Are they really messages from beyond? I don’t know. I don’t really care. They bring her peace and a connection with her father, who was taken too early from this world. Using the vehicle of one vulnerable little boy, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close explores deep within the psyche of those who lose their loved ones suddenly – the intense anger, the overwhelming guilt, and the crushing sadness that keeps them searching for something to connect to the person they lost so abruptly. It doesn’t matter if his father left him the key, or the pennies, or the rain. What matters is that this soul is able to heal itself and move on.
Last November, I visited the 9/11 Memorial site. Just a few seconds on the grounds brought back the sadness and fear that was left over from so many sudden deaths. It didn’t take a pagan to feel it. Everyone changed their tone the second they got through security on onto the memorial site. In the footprints of the buildings are two reflections pools, each etched with the names of the victims. I was with a three-year old, and even she was overwhelmed by the hallowed feeling of that land. The dead of 9/11 are still speaking to the City of New York just as much as they speak to young Oskar.
The lesson of Extremely Loud is to trust. Trust in those who care for you and you will eventually heal. Although the journey is painful, one day a perfectly clear sky will send its healing waters down to you.
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