Slivers of reception
“Do not fear to hope.”
It sounds so straightforward. As if we don’t need a reminder of this intuitive wisdom.
Yet we do from time to time. Layers of fears can hold us back—from reconciling with friends or relatives, from shifting a career, to deconstructing why one’s purpose in life feels washed out. The barriers we put up to seeking forgiveness.
And for some of us, perhaps most poignantly, the fear of not staying connected with a loved one.
Facing that fear requires a gut check of sorts. Some of us shoulder a burden of not wanting to admit this even as we feel our relationship slipping away with someone who is physically gone.
Still, there are palpable ways not only to hold on, but to even expand that relationship. Dave Kane and the legacy of his youngest son, Nicholas O’Neill, reminded me of this the other day. Speaking to a group at Hope Floats, Dave urged us to be open and remain aware of the ways that our son, daughter, or partners, parents and others stay connected with us.
“I’m glad you’re all together … I will always love you.”
Nicky was the youngest victim of the The Station nightclub fire in West Warwick, Rhode Island in February, 2003. A raconteur, musician, and playwright, Nicky was actually in a band scheduled to warm up for the headliner the next evening. While Dave recalled reeling from that horrific night, as he probably has done more than a hundred times over the years, his core message continues to be: they are still with us.
“They are heart and soul,” he told me years ago. “They are love and joy.” All in the present tense—as much as we can continue holding them now, in this very moment.
Depending on how open we are to this—when slowing down to appreciate the little things, which many write off as mere coincidences—our loved ones continue to send us many signs. Which often say, as Dave offers, “I’m okay.” Or “Please play … take care of Mom … I’m glad you’re all together.” Or, “I will always love you.” More on those signs in a moment.
Is it about being more receptive?
Dave and his family believe that Nicky continues to do a job that began when he passed. He helps bring people together while assuring them that those bonds can continue. Sometimes Nicky works through his father, who is the author of 41 Signs of Hope, and a radio broadcaster in Rhode Island, to spread this message. Other times he works behind the scenes to lift the awareness of people facing despair—and helping strangers support one another.
Nicky and our son Michael were behind the scenes (or perhaps right in the open unbeknownst to us) connecting my family with Dave’s, and to some survivors of The Station fire. But that’s another story already told in my own book.
This can be freaky stuff. The hard-bitten cynics among us demand proof. While Dave’s book, for one, gives innumerable accounts where Nicky’s family experienced his favorite number “41” or received other signs, and felt viscerally connected to him, that may not work for everyone.
“What if I don’t see any signs?” one woman asked him the other day.
Perhaps one answer to that is how receptive we are to retaining a connection. How we meet or reconcile our worst fears around this.
A few days ago, a two-inch-long splinter of wood from an old shovel handle lodged in my palm while I was landscaping. It didn’t really hurt going in, but got well under the skin. I worried what it would feel like coming out.
Facing that relatively mild fear or instance to pull out the splinter is sort of a mini-parable for this. Perhaps we need to meet that fear of not staying connected head on, release the anguish, the expectation of it, or vent this somehow. And consider what to change if we want to carry that relationship forward. To carry the spirit of our loved one forward, what shift can we make? What practice, daily or otherwise, will help hold her close?
“They are love and joy.”
Dave Kane
It is about being more receptive? To the presence of certain animals, for another example, who somehow carry or convey our loved one’s spirits. Several friends of mine pause and even smile at the appearance of a hawk circling overhead, or a deer on the lawn. My family can marvel at how two seals approached close enough to shore to approve of his sister’s wedding last summer, a sign of my late mother’s presence as well.
Nicky reminds us to try opening ourselves. About a year before the fire, he wrote a one-act play about three guardian angels who are recently deceased and running around New York. The play ends with the lines, “Do not fear to hope.”
It’s now in production for a movie called “Sliver of Bliss.” Dave says the title refers to the brief thrill you get when everything comes together in that moment.
And yes, that thrill is real.