Last Sunday, July 5 marked 10 years without my mom.

It’s been a decade of dealing with the trauma of her sudden passing but for some reason, my mood around this time was different…

For years, I’ve been knitting my socks from the toe up.

For years, I’ve been successful at my attempts in converting top-down sock patterns for this construction… until now.

I’ve been seeing the Poet socks by Sari Nordlund pop up on my Instagram so many times that I finally cast it on. The stubborn side of me kept trying to convert it for toe-up but the pattern never showed up correctly. After 5 weeks of failed attempts, it dawned on me that maybe, it was time to learn something new?

It’s so out of character though. The old me would have just moved on and looked for another pattern but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Even though I’m not at all a lace, top-down kind of sock knitter, I just had to have this pair!

Around the same time I was trying to figure out these socks, I stumbled upon the book, Signs, for the second time around. I heard about it before – a year or so ago – and had every intention then of getting it, but I didn’t write it down and eventually forgot all about it.

This book is a collection of stories from people who’s loved ones have passed but remain close by, through the messages they send from the other side.

From the author: “I want you to understand that this book has found its way into your hands for a reason. That you are reading these words right now is not an accident. It is an invitation from the universe. In whatever way this book and these words have found their way to you, please know it wasn’t a random event. You are meant to be reading these words. “

Ok, so I admit, I had a bit of retail therapy because of Corona and bought a bunch of random stuff, but this was definitely not one of them.

I can count in my fingers the number of times I dreamt of my mom. 4 or 5 maybe, the first couple of years and then nothing… until recently. Around the time I was messing up on the sock. I dreamt of her twice in one week, and then bam – I see this book.

Couldn’t help but think she’s saying hey!!!

I always thought that in some weird way, my mom was letting me know she was still close by. It was a lot stronger in the earlier years – seeing 143, the time of her passing, on clocks, receipts, etc., the smell of coffee brewing at places that didn’t make sense, the sudden strong scent of flowers as if someone just handed me a huge bouquet in the car, with the windows up while driving around in Europe, a group of people sitting at a swim-up bar started singing Hallelujah as soon as Radley and I swam out at the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, and so much more.

Recently though, those kinds of things stopped and were replaced with obnoxious random life events that were too coincidental to be true. It was as if she wanted to make sure we knew, she definitely had a hand in whatever transpired.

Still, as much as I like to hold on to and believe what I like to think is her, I was skeptical. I had no way of confirming whether or not I was going bat crazy. I didn’t know what to believe. Until I read this book.

Even though Ontario has entered stage 2 of re-opening and increased the size of gatherings from 5 to 10 people, we still chose to keep it safe and limit our contact within our family. We weren’t able to celebrate her anniversary the way we intended to: A mass, a large get together, lots of food, and stories shared among family. Instead, we took turns visiting her at the cemetery and called it a day.

And normally, around this time, starting with July 1st – my heart starts swelling up. Her last voicemail was wishing us all a Happy Canada Day. For 10 years, whenever we watch fireworks, I’m reminded of that voicemail. It was the last time we would hear her voice.

This time though, my mood was different.

Coronavirus might have prevented us to do a proper memorial on her 10th year anniversary, but between the sock and the book – I felt… joy.

I now have the affirmation I was looking for – all these years – to know she is still very much around. I believe certain people were put in my life as an angel gift from her – a hug she is sending me from the other side.

She kept me busy with knitting, I’m sure. Part of the excitement I had leading up to this day was because my socks are finally looking like how they are supposed to look!

My heart, for the first time around this time, was not so heavy.

And… on our way home after the cemetery, I blurted, “Anyone up for a drive-in movie?”

Radley turned to me in shock and said, “Yeah! But are you sure you’re ready?”

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

It was July 4th, 2010, when I got that dreaded phone call that my mom had been in an accident. We were in a drive-in theater. We left midway through the movie and rushed home to be with my dad. For hours, we waited for an update. She was in LA, visiting her mom and siblings. A family of doctors and nurses. To this day, I still question why we were never told of how serious her accident was until it was too late.

I booked my dad’s flight, forced him to shower and get ready, packed his suitcase, and drove him to the airport. He had the red-eye on July 5th. Before his plane took off from Pearson, my mom was already gone.

I haven’t been able to go to a drive-in since then.

10 years.

I avoided it like the plague.

This was the most we’ve ever done since lockdown. When we went, tickets were sold online and scanned from the phone upon entry. We stayed in our car, and everyone else did the same.

We weren’t prepared at all – no pillows, no pants to protect against mosquito bites but, we had a great time.

We watched Jumanji under the stars.

It was the perfect ending to what turned out to be a magical day.

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

– Roald Dahl

The following day, July 6th, Radley, and I celebrated our 39th birthday quietly at home.