I Told You So!

Linda and I were close friends for more than 70 years, even though we were opposites in several ways. She was tall, I was short; she was stunningly beautiful, I was almost cute; she was sophisticated and “cool,” I was neither; she was an atheistic realist, I was a spiritual idealist. None of that mattered to us. We were best friends!

As kids, we walked barefoot through soft green grass chatting vigorously, and stopping now and then to pick a fuzzy dandelion and blow it into that moment of life. We whispered secrets to each other and shared our dreams. We divided popsicles and penny candy, and wondered what we would become. Most Saturdays we packed sandwiches in brown paper bags and joined school friends to hike the meadows of the Hathaway farm and wade in a shallow stream behind the farmhouse. If the weather was bad, we went to  movies at the Lund Theater in our small town of Carmichaels.

Sundays were boring; so, just for the fun of it, Linda and I visited church school or youth group meetings at the Methodist Church. We even managed to attend a summer church camp one year. But none of what we were taught made a lot of sense. Linda rejected the idea of life after death and the declaration that we were sinners at birth. As far as she was concerned, the Methodists were praying to a dead man. One thing we agreed about was our disbelief that God doomed to Hell all the people who didn’t believe in Jesus (if there was a god, in Linda’s case). 

By the end of 7^th grade, my dad took a new job and moved our family to McKeesport, then a booming steel town located a few hours from Carmichaels. I missed my dear friend and for a time life was hard. We visited as often as possible and looked forward to summers when we could spend weeks rather than a few days together. Those visits continued throughout our high school years. Later we attended the same college, and eventually each of us married, had children, divorced and remarried. Linda gave birth to two sons and two daughters; I had two daughters and one son.

Whether married or divorced, we were always there for each other, and our children spent time together until their teens. 

How quickly the years flew by! After we were both grandmothers, Linda and her husband moved to Virginia to be near one of their daughters. We saw less and less of each other, but stayed in touch through phone calls and mail.

So much has changed since Linda and I were children. What didn’t change was our friendship and our status as opposites. She remained an atheist, while I was becoming transformed spiritually through my many mystical interludes. For the past 20 or more years, Linda battled two cancers, high blood pressure, and several unrelated surgeries while I enjoyed good health. I grieved over her suffering, and she supported me like a cheerleader during my endeavors. When my first book came out, she rejoiced, even though she didn’t embrace spirituality or mysticism. Her theory was that mystical events happened to me simply because I was “special.” I tried when I could to convince her that she was closing herself off to discovering the truth of who she was—an immortal soul–but she wasn’t having it. 

Several months ago, Linda had a serious stroke and was sent from the hospital to the care of her family and Hospice. I drove to Virginia having limited time to remain there. Through a series of synchronicities, I was blessed to be present along with her family as she took her last breath. 

In that sacred moment I whispered, “Go to the LIGHT, Linda.” 

After a few moments I added, “I expect to receive a sign from you, dear friend. At that time, you’ll hear me say, “‘I told you so!’”

About two weeks later, a light above my kitchen sink suddenly blinked out. It was one of three small spotlights on a panel. In that instant some of the hair on my head seemed to vibrate…and I knew it was her sign. 

I whispered, “I told you so.” 

The other two lights are still working.