I've been thinking about dead people this week. Okay, that sounds darker than I intended.
It started with a Jay Shetty podcast. I listened to his conversation with medium John Edward, and what stayed with me wasn't really the question of whether you believe mediums can communicate with people who have died. It was what people seem to be looking for when they seek him out.
Closure. Healing. Maybe even the hope that they'll finally feel fixed.
But what struck me was that what they seemed to find wasn't necessarily closure at all.
It was love and connection.
And once that idea was in my head, I started noticing things.
Like this guy, who showed up outside my office this week.
Which somehow got me thinking about dragonflies.
Somewhere along the way, I was taught that when you see a dragonfly, it can mean someone who has died is nearby. I don't remember who taught me that—my mother? A friend? I'm not sure.
But I see dragonflies all the time.
I notice them most when I'm kayaking. They skim across the water, sometimes landing nearby, and they're often in pairs—probably mating, as dragonflies apparently like to do.
And when I see one, I usually think of my dad.
My dad died suddenly when I was 27.
The last time I saw him was on a Sunday. He wasn't feeling great, but he still came over to my impromptu dinner party. It was just my best friend, my dad, and me, scrolling through her latest matches on whatever online dating site was popular at the time.
Before he left, he gave me one of his hugs.
My dad gave the best hugs. That night, he held me really tight and told me he loved me.
Sometimes I wonder: Did he know something wasn't right?
Three days later, he was gone.
I still remember standing at the window of my upstairs apartment and watching him get into his car and drive away.
My friend later admitted, somewhat bashfully, that she'd felt like she was interrupting this special moment between us because she was standing about five feet away washing dishes.
She wasn't.
My family members are huggers and kissers. What can I say?
But more than two decades later, I can still remember that hug.
And so, when a dragonfly buzzes past my kayak, part of me likes to imagine my dad checking in. I like the idea that maybe he's watching over me while I perform my never-ending list of hobbies - but I also hope he isn't spending eternity keeping tabs on me.
I hope he's laughing it up with my grandfather—his dad—and my uncles. I hope he's exploring this great big universe.
And I'm not sure closure is always what we're looking for when someone dies. Maybe we don't actually want to close anything. Maybe we want to know that the relationship still has somewhere to go.
My relationship with my dad didn't end when I was 27. It changed.
He's in the dragonflies I notice while kayaking. He's in the memory of a hug that lasted a little longer than usual. He's in the stories I tell. He's in the part of me that still wonders what he'd think about the person I've become.
And yes, sometimes he's apparently required to accompany me on whatever new hobby I've decided to pick up.
Poor guy.
Maybe healing from grief isn't about finally reaching the point where we're finished with someone. Maybe it's learning that love can continue even when the relationship has changed form.
We keep finding ways to connect.
A song.
A smell.
A story you've told a hundred times.
A dragonfly skimming across the water.
And maybe instead of asking ourselves when we'll finally get closure, there's another question worth asking:
Where does this person still show up in my life?
📝 Your Writing Bravely™ Prompt
Take five minutes with that question. Don't worry about making it beautiful. Just see where it takes you.
If someone came to mind as you read this, hit reply and tell me where they still show up for you.
Come See Me at the Henrico Community Authors Showcase
Monday, November 9th @ 7pm-Varina Library
Speaking of writing, grief, and the ways we make meaning from our experiences...
I'm excited to share that I'll be participating in the Henrico Community Authors Showcase, where I'll be talking about my book and the role writing can play in moving through grief and loss.
If you're local, I'd love to see you there. Come say hello, hear a little about the book, and spend some time celebrating local authors and the stories we put into the world.
Learn more about the Author Showcase →here.
From a kayak observing dragonflies,
Adina
P.S. If this prompt makes you wish you had more uninterrupted time to write and reflect in community, that’s exactly what we’re creating at Writing Bravely™ on September 19. You can find the details here.
