I guess standard protocol when one hits their head is to have them lay down in a quiet dark space for 10 minutes or so then assess them for suspected concussion. On Saturday, when I was skating and fell, this is what happened to me.
I lay down, and as I lay there, I could almost see Mark. Sitting there, worried expression on his face, waiting to see if I was ok.
I know that if he was alive, he wouldn’t have actually been there, but this seems to happen when I need him the most… I don’t even have to close my eyes to “see” him.
It happened at my high school reunion. I was standing in a corner, talking to Roger & Chantal, and I could almost feel him behind me, almost see him with me. It was overwhelming, and at the time I just thought it was a by-product of grief, given how fresh and new it still was.
Tangent: I wonder if that’s why I am doing as as I am… I never stopped living… I never put my life on hold… I still did things like my high school reunion, and heading to Bowen Island…
So when I was laying there, in the dark room, ‘seeing’ Mark watching me, I started crying.
Evada, the woman who was watching over me (she’s tinier in person! I follow her blog and she seems so much larger than life…), started to tell me about how when she hit her head, she cried for 3 1/2 hours and she’s not one who cries. I’m glad she gave me an explanation – I didn’t have to go into how much I missed Mark at that particular moment.
After I was assessed, I didn’t “see” him there any more. I guess he was satisfied that I was okay.
It’s nice knowing he’s staying around… watching over us like he promised to do.