We lost my brother Mike due to a heart attack on November 24th, 1986. His funeral was held on November 28th.
Today is November 28th, 2002. He's been gone sixteen years today, and since the 28th falls on Thanksgiving Day this year I decided to post this story in memory of Mike. It is a true story, as all of my stories are true. I neither read nor write fiction, because I've never found fiction that could hold a candle to the non fiction of my life.
It has been an exciting life thus far. There have been many sad times in my life, but still, there has always been the magic and wonder of God to lift me up and renew my trust and faith.
Letters To Mike
For the first several years after Mike's death I wrote him letters on special days such as his birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc. Of course I knew he was dead and I could never mail or deliver the letters, and yet, somehow it made me feel as if he knew what I was writing, knew my grief and how much I missed him. Even now, sixteen years after his death, I still write to him occasionally ... during times of anger, frustration or grief. And even now, it helps me to deal with the problem. And then, when I get it dealt with, I write the story up and send it out to the world. Perhaps my therapy lies in the act of writing itself. Perhaps the pen is mightier than the sword. I know there have been times that I was convinced. This story is one of those times.....
Mom knew I wrote to Mike occasionally. She never said whether she thought I was being silly or not, but eventually she got around to asking "what I'd heard from Mike!" Strange thing was, every so often I'd tell her what Mike had to say! Eventually she too had dreams in which Mike came to her and spoke. The last dream she ever had about him was titled "The Comforter" and can be found as a story clip from book number eighteen on this web site.
In 1987 I wrote to Mike and told him of some of the changes within our family. At the end of the letter I invited him to Thanksgiving dinner.
Christina was married one year and one day by the time Mike died, and she now lived in Kansas. She was my only child and I really felt lost during the holidays.
In 1988 I wrote to Mike and told him of the great nephew he now had. We'd named him Joshua, and I'd have given anything if Mike could have seen him.
By 1992 Christina and Joshua were back in this area. It was nice to have them "home." I didn't write to Mike as often as I once did, and many of the old letters were tucked away for safe keeping until I could write that book I'd been promising everyone I'd write someday.
Thanksgiving Day, 1992
The day dawned brisk and clear with only a chill to the air that normally would have been shivering cold by late November in Ohio.
The turkey and trimmings nestled snuggly in the oven while billowy puffs of semi-melted marshmallow caressed the tips of home grown sweet potatoes and made me think of snow capped mountain peaks.
Although Christina was back in the area she had planned on having dinner elsewhere this year so it would only be Mike and me and a friend or two for dinner.
Our friends arrived with cherry pies, sparkling bottles of beverages and home made pumpkin cookies.
After a leisurely dinner and some friendly chit-chat our guests departed, Mike retired to the living room to watch tv, and I decided to lay down for a nap.
It seemed I'd no more than lay down than the sound of voices announced the arrival of surprise guests.
Upon entering the living room I saw my brother Mike lying on the couch, while Joshua stood beside him. The two of them were having a race to see who could eat their frozen fudge bar first!
I sat down on the couch and Mike placed a sock clad foot in my lap. He and Joshua were having the time of their life ....
"Watch me Mamaw,....I'm going to beat him,"
Mike chuckled as he nudged me with his foot.
"No, he's not," four year old Joshua giggled.
"Where's the turkey, Mama?"
Christina chirped as she strode through the room.
"It's on the counter in the roasting pan," I replied as I listened to Mike and Joshua laugh at one another while the frozen bars began to melt and trickle down their hands.
Christina crossed the dinning room and headed toward my bedroom as my husband's re-entrance into the house startled me.
"I thought you went to shoot pool," I said.
"Leaving in just a minute."
He replied as he rounded the corner and followed Christina.
"Why doesn't he ever invite me to go shoot pool with him?" Mike asked.
"Do you want to go?" I asked.
"Sure," Mike replied,
"There isn't anything else to do today and I shoot a pretty mean game of pool."
I could hear Christina and my husband (Mike ...whom we shall call Michael from here on so it won't be so confusing.) They were discussing one of my unicorn pictures that hung on the bedroom wall.
"Do you think I'll look like that when I get older?"
I heard Michael ask.
"Sure," Christina replied.
"What in the world are you two talking about?"
I asked as I entered the room. Why would Michael think he'd ever look like a unicorn, I wondered as I informed him that Mike wanted to go shoot pool with him.
"Sure, he can go." He replied.
"But, do you think I'll ever look like that again?"
What is wrong with these people, I wondered, as I glanced toward the unicorn picture that had hung on the wall for ages.
The picture was not the same .... it had changed from a unicorn to that of a baby about six months old. The child was quite chunky and had large bags of water under his eyes! Somehow I recognized the photo as that of my husband when he was an infant!
"Oh don't be silly."
What's wrong with the two of you? Of course you'll never look like that again." I scoffed.
"Are you sure," Michael continued to question.
"Yes, I'm certain," I replied. "Lots of babies have those water bags under their eyes, but they outgrow them and they never return."
Michael seemed satisfied with my reassurance, and he and Christina turned to leave the room.
Mike and Joshua's laughter filled the house as I glanced at the picture one more time. I'd never seen an infant with water bags under its eyes .... why had I assured Michael that I had? The picture was once again the beautiful unicorn.
"I beat him Mamaw," Mike exclaimed.
"No he didn't," Joshua countered between giggles.
I watched from the doorway as Mike hoisted Josh onto his shoulders and trotted through the house like a pony....
"Mamaw...help!" Josh squealed, as I cast a final glance at the unicorn picture, flipped off the light switch ....
.... and awoke from my dream ....
We buried my brother six years before this Thanksgiving day dream. He died one year and one day after Christina married and moved to Kansas, and our last conversation, only moments before his death was about him going to visit her.
Joshua was conceived on the first anniversary of his death.
Mike and I were both born under the sign of the "water bearer," Aquarius.
Two Aquarians ..... too stubborn ..... to give one another up .... even in death ....
And one little unicorn destined to trot both worlds .....
Invisible hoof prints on an everlasting path ....
By 1992 I had put my German Shepherd Dog breeding business on hold and prepared to step into the relatively new field of psychic/spiritual homicide work. My writing to Mike had slowed down considerably by this time, which is one thing that makes the dream so intriguing.
I am reminded that God's time is not man's time .... and that we must never forget those things which are of greatest importance, regardless of where we go.
Sometimes we think our prayers are not heard, much less answered, but I am living proof that this is not the case. If we have the patience and faith, God will answer. And if our requests are not completely selfish or unrealistic, they will be granted.
Unrealistic? I ask a man who's dead to come to Thanksgiving dinner, and here I am telling the world to not be unrealistic! Some nerve, huh?
Only in God's world could such a request be granted ....
In God's world and in my world ....
Bonnie M. Wells
This story comes from the first book of Pure Coincidence- "The Early Years"
November Story Page
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