Looking for signs

Pete and I, May 2017.

"Peter and Gretchen" I heard him say, and I literally shook. Tears sprung to my eyes in a small, low-ceilinged elementary school meeting room with eleven strangers sitting close by. Time stopped, paused, and eventually restarted as classroom conversation continued around my cocoon of light shock. I have tears in my eyes even now, thinking of it. A transcendent moment.

It is intimidating to choose a different path in an area that is completely new to you, especially late in life. After building professional expertise for decades, it is very awkward to set it aside and start over. In addition to building new skills, there is also the doubt - how to know if this path is a good one, the "right" one. Of course, there is no "right" and there is always the opportunity the change direction, but still....

While embarking on this new-to-me path of writing a book about my brother, I've had several signs from the universe. The latest came one night last week.

To begin proactively building a writing skill from scratch, I've signed up for an introductory writing class that began last week and extends into March. A group of eleven of us had no idea what this class would be. Turns out it is structured as a serious writing group, by someone who writes professionally and also facilitates writing groups for an arts granting organization. This will be an experiential dive into a true writing life for me.

After 45 minutes of orientation to the class, we went around the room introducing ourselves and what we'd like to get out of this experience. The gentleman next to me started. His name was Peter. Like my brother.

Ok, so, that's just a coincidence. I was next to introduce myself. When I was done, the instructor went back to write down the names of the first two of us. To assist, Peter said, "Peter..." and, pointing to to me, "and Gretchen."

Boom. The number of times I've heard that phrase, "Peter and Gretchen." I can hear that phrase in my parents' voices, my grandparents', teachers', so many voices from earliest memories. It's how we thought of each other, the two siblings, two halves of the same pair, a kind of relationship we shared with no one else in the world. Even with adult lives in different parts of the country, divergent interests, and varied life experiences, none of that could change that we would always be "Peter and Gretchen".

That is until Pete was gone. Now it is just Gretchen.

This is the distinct symptom of sibling loss, this special kind of loneliness, a grief distinct from parental loss or other loss. More on that soon.

In the meantime, sitting in that room, hearing a complete stranger who shared my brother’s name invoke that phrase like a summons from the beyond, well, it was a sign. Another sign. I am on the right path.

And if you are making challenging life choices, implementing big change, starting in a new direction, I implore you to stay aware of transcendence moments around you that may serve as guideposts along the way, to either confirm your path or help you adjust. They alleviate a bit of the uncertainty of starting over from scratch. They are a connection to faith.

Have you recently, or ever, had an event that you interpreted as a sign that you were on the right path?