I've mentioned before how I have searched for Ryan in little things since he died. Little signs of him saying "hello." There have been many. And he never lets me go too long without one of these greetings. I wondered if maybe I had just gotten really good at looking for him. Or if he really is reaching out so obviously. And maybe it's a little bit of both.
But most recently he's been playing around with the lights. And he always seems to do it when I'm inside my head about something. Worrying. Or seething about some insignificant issue.
I have a few really great examples of this. The first was when I was on a walk with Chase one night, after a particularly long hiatus from winter walking. I was frustrated with Chase's deteriorated leash manners and took to pacing the park by our house, back and forth, until he got the hang of walking with me instead of pulling me along. But he wasn't getting the message. And I was getting impatient. Then suddenly, the street light we crossed under went out. Which I thought nothing of. Street lights flicker and go out all the time. We paced back under it. It turned back on. Still I thought nothing. Maybe it was on a sensor? But cars drove past and the light stayed on. Others walked past and it stayed on. So we crossed the light again. And it turned off. I remembered an old story someone told me of angels being near when lights flicker, and thought maybe it was Ryan. We continued pacing under the light 3 or 4 times and each time the light flickered on or off. I was full blown laughing by the time I decided to head back home, and realized my baby boy did his job. My frustrations went away and it was one of the most enjoyable walks we've ever been on.
The second time it happened was after a frustrating phone call. I hung up and was angry about some of the things said. I stomped to the basement to get some laundry when one of the pot lights turned off as I passed under it. This was fairly soon after the street light incident so I tuned in pretty quickly. Almost immediately the angry phone call was forgotten. I grabbed the basket and headed back upstairs, only to have the light switch back on, again, as I passed below. A pretty "weird" occurrence for a pot light connected to several others.
There have been more instances (like when he flickered a light at the Super Bowl party I sadly attended without him) and I choose to believe it's my boy every time, looking out for me. Keeping me calm. Reminding me to smile. It's like our own little game of "peek-a-boo." He's pretty creative, my baby boy.
I'm very lucky to be his mom.