Babies don't understand object permanence. If they can't see it, they think it doesn't exist. It's only after they grow that they start to understand just because their block is under a blanket, it's not gone for good. Mum has only disappeared from view.
I'm beginning to think that death is the same. I'm no longer in the same room as my brother David, but it's rudimentary to think he's gone for good.
I saw him at a friend's place this week. We were sitting watching Bearhands and some friends dismantle a shed when the Big Sister went from my side without warning. She ran straight behind a reversing tractor. Somehow the operator spotted her. It was lucky, but it wasn't luck. It was only afterwards that I spotted the single aircraft flying overhead. Uncle Davo was watching over his angel. He may be gone, but he persists.
He reveals himself to me sometimes. It's not always so obvious. Sometimes it's a frog with a golden belly, a bird, a sunset. Sometimes it's just a feeling that he's close.
Object impermanence makes for a rousing game of peekaboo, but children would have difficult and unpleasant lives if they didn't eventually realise that things continue; even after they've gone from view. I'm slowly cottoning-on myself. One day, when we're once again aware of each other's presence, David will say "Come on Flossie, what took you so long? You're supposed to be the smart one."
Anne @ Domesblissity says
I can so relate to this Amanda. I never, ever believed in an after life or all of those sorts of things until after my Mum died last year. I could give you countless examples when she's been there to spur me on or wish me happy birthday as she did. Its comforting to know. Oh, and I was the sporty one. xx
Beautiful post, Amanda. I have no doubt David's watching over you and your family. No doubt at all x
Kylez @ A Study in Contradictions says
Great post Amanda, and definitely so true. I don't think it would be so easy to deal with the death of loved ones if we didn't get those signs that they are still around.
I was always the smart one among my siblings, not I'm just the old one!
If nothing else, your love for your brother is permanent. In my family I was the smart, kooky one and my younger brother was the sporty, cheeky popular one. A well balanced family.
Vanessa Beattie (@BabblingBandit) says
This is a beautiful post. I'm an atheist so I struggle with the thought of an afterlife but I have had some contradicting experiences that do cause me some doubt.
I was the naughty one! Surprise, surprise. My sister was smart, popular, outgoing and articulate. I was academically challenged, a non participator and constantly trying to push my parents buttons one way or another.
Keeping Up With The Holsbys says
Mine's my great grandmother, whom I never even met. I named my daughter after her in honour of the fact that she's probably saved my bacon a gazillion times in my careless years.
Seemed the least I could do 😉
Beautiful post Amanda. I lost a partner when I was 22 and can so relate to those special moments when I just know he was looking down on me.
I was definitely the sporty one in my family! From cross country, to netball, to softball, to table tennis. I did it all!
NewLifeOnTheRoad (@NewLifeOnRoad) says
I so believe in guardian angels looking out for family members, especially close relatives. Beautiful that you are seeing your Brother David xx
Have a laugh on me says
Love this post and I am very happy you have these moments with your much-loved bro. In our family, I was always the one that was highly strung, now I have 3 kids that if I was any more relaxed I'd be asleep! Em x
Seana - Sydney, Kids, Food + Travel says
Hello, I believe this too, I have a dear grandpa who died in 1987, and he's in my thoughts very often. he told me so many things that are so relevant to every day. Not that I feel a prescence often but my loved ones are very much around in my head.
I went to my Dad's grave a few days ago, in a beautiful country graveyard. I was expecting some presence, have felt it before, but that day it was a very one-sided conversation. Maybe he's gone sailing.