The Wooden Duck, the Flashlight, and the Chew Bone

My morning routine is simple. Before my feet hit the floor, I thank God for waking me up today. I thank Him for His love, another day of life, and whatever it may bring. I thank Him for my well-being and that of my family and friends. 

     After that, I make my way to the kitchen and start the coffeemaker. I love my morning coffee! On my way to the kitchen, I pass two tall bookcases in the living room. It’s still dark, so the only light I see is the glow from a salt lamp, which I notice is slightly illuminating something on the floor in front of one of the bookcases. What is that? I hope it’s not a dead mouse! But I can’t tell through my sleepy eyes, so I turn on a lamp to get a better look. What I see takes me by surprise. It’s the wooden carving of a duck that my deceased stepdad carved for me 14 years ago. How did it end up on the floor? I don’t have any idea. If there had been an earthquake during the night, a lot of other items would have been disturbed. I checked online and there was no earthquake. While drinking my coffee, I stared at it, knowing it had been sitting on that bookcase for eight years. 

     That’s when a specific memory came, yanking me right back into my childhood. My stepdad and my mom were in their early 80’s, both in ill health, and I was the only family member available to help them out. One day, I was driving my stepdad home from a doctor appointment. We were just riding along in silence when he said, “I’m sorry for all that happened when you were in high school. I was a real jerk.”

     A little backstory is in order here: some people are happy drunks, some are mean. He was the latter. Him and my mom fought about it almost every night. Sometimes the fights escalated into him physically abusing her. I was afraid of him, always walking on eggshells. As the time approached for him to come home from work every evening, I knew it was best for me to just stay out of his way. So I’d mostly hang out in my room with my little dog, Ollie, doing homework and listening to music. That way I couldn’t hear them arguing. I can still recall the nerve rattling sound of his wing-tips on the hallway floor when he went to change his clothes. Their bedroom was directly across the hall from mine.

     Since he’s on the other side of the veil now, was the duck his way of letting me know he’s watching over me? Protecting me, like he didn’t do when he was alive? I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is I felt his presence when I picked it up off the floor.

     Oh, but there’s more. Three days after that event, I get up and make my way to the kitchen for coffee. Again, it’s dark, so I turn on the overhead light above the sink, and press the button to start the machine. Then I walk into the family room to turn on a light there. As I make my way back to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I see it - a flashlight on the kitchen floor. What?? It wasn’t there last night when I went to bed. Mind you, this is a small flashlight with a belt clip that I keep on the bottom shelf of the pantry. The pantry is approximately ten feet away from where the flashlight is. Holy crap! What’s going on here? 

     At first, I want to think it’s a sign from my deceased son who passed suddenly three years ago. He used to carry a flashlight on his job, but the one he carried was larger and heavier. As I think further, though, I don’t feel it’s from him. (He sends me feathers and dragonflies). Later in the day, I tell a friend and she raises a question, “What if it’s a sign that you need to shine a light on something? Maybe it’s time you write your own story of how you made it through everything you’ve had to handle alone.” Maybe she’s right and maybe I will.

     Oh, but wait, there’s even more. Two days ago, again in the darkness of early morning, I switched on the floor lamp between the sofa and the recliner in the family room. I notice it’s standing at a slight tilt, so I look down at the base to see what’s going on and there it is - a remnant of a rawhide chew bone that my dog, Daisy, loved to chew on so much. She always got excited when I brought a new one home to her and it kept her busy for hours on end. 

     But here’s the kicker: Daisy died exactly thirty days after my husband. That was five years ago. My heart was shattered, losing both of them so close together. With my husband, we knew it was coming because he had been ill, hospital bound, for quite a while. His kidneys failed and there was nothing more the doctors could do, so he requested hospice. 

     The days that followed were far beyond sad, even when you know death is coming. But at least we had precious time to talk in private, to share our feelings about our life together that spanned 26 years. We cried, we laughed, and promised to meet each other again when it was my turn to go. I’m grateful beyond measure that we had that time together at home before he passed.

     With Daisy, however, I had little notice to prepare for her leaving me. Her kidneys failed in a very short time. She seemed fine one day, still eating and drinking, and the next day she couldn’t even make it up the steps from the back yard onto the porch. The vet told me that renal failure in dogs isn’t something that can usually be repaired without surgery, especially in older dogs. She was 11 and he didn’t think she could withstand the operation. 

     Still fragile from losing my husband, I didn’t know how I’d make it through her euthanasia. All I remember is lying on the floor with her on her favorite fluffy blanket, stroking her head, telling her how much I love her through my tears before the vet administered the shot. So, to find a piece of her chew bone after five years out in the open like that, I know without a doubt that she was sending me a signal. 

     If you think all this is crazy, that’s OK. But you’ll never convince me that the spirit realm isn’t real and that we don’t get messages from our loved ones. I have tangible proof - a wooden duck, a flashlight, and a chew bone. 

     Yet now, when I get up each morning, I turn on several lights, just to make sure I’m not going to trip over another “something” from the other side. What comes next, I don’t know. But I’m open to receiving whatever it is because I no longer feel so alone.

#ReedsyEncounters