Everybody’s telling me to wait for signs from Rob.
“He’s there, he’s guiding you, his spirit is watching over you, he’ll give you a sign…”
One friend, only a week or two after Rob passed, told me that he hugged her. I wanted to ask her why he would hug her first, and not me, but I didn’t have the nerve.
I shared with friends that a hummingbird came and hovered over Rob’s red impatiens last month. Someone told me it was Rob himself, coming to visit me and cheer me. I said, “Rob was not a hummingbird. He was a hawk, or an eagle. He was not a hummingbird.”
I talk to Rob all the time, but I get no answers. I don’t even get the sense that he’s there listening.
Someone told me to pay more attention to my dreams, that perhaps Rob can only visit me in dreams.
Thursday night I had the most vivid dream ever, but in my dream I was sitting on a couch with Hillary Clinton and asking her why she feels entitled to the White House. I made the mistake of calling her “Mrs. Clinton” and she made very clear to me that I should address her as “Madame Secretary” before telling me that it’s not for me to second guess her motives nor deny her her place in herstory.
Rob was nowhere in sight, in this dream, nor has he been anywhere but in photographs, lately.
Harry Houdini wanted desperately to reach out to his mother’s departed spirit. So much so that he apparently visited each and every so called medium in an effort to have his mother visit earth after she passed. Harry ended up exposing each and every so called medium as a fraud.
I’ve come to the conclusion that once a person is dead, they are really and truly dead.
Perhaps that’s the way they want it.
Perhaps it’s what we should let them have.
Pure quiet, and peace.