ON YOUR MIRACULOUS JOURNEY

BY Vicki Morgan

April 2006

Sitting in your room while I write this

Your favorite scent, the smell of vanilla so strong

It floods my senses and

Brings you into sharp focus.

Vanilla cookies baking in the oven,

Chocolate and vanilla eggs

Crammed in our mouths at Easter,

The vanilla candles and incense you collected,

The vanilla scented night light

Grandma gave you as a child,

And all the refills that eventually got

Used over the years until in your teens

You transferred the light fixture to your bathroom.

So sharply in focus are you at times

I swear I’ve heard you banging pots and pans in the kitchen,

Mixing up one of your dubious feasts:

Nachos slathered in cheese,

A bucket of salsa ready for dipping or drinking,

Salads filled with garlic croutons,

Microwave pizza smothered in pepperoni,

Scrambled eggs with a whole package of bacon on the side,

Chicken tacos with another bucket of salsa,

Liters of Pepsi to wash it all down.

You drank salsa so often that

Somewhere around 17 years of age

On the rim and lower toilet seat in your bathroom

You left a permanent orange stain

That all attempts of repeated scrubbing, bleach,

or cleanser failed to remove.

Like a Mom, I worried about your kidneys and your liver

While you laughed at my concern,

And your stepfather shook his head in dismay.

He replaced the seat after you were gone.

Like so much about you

You left indelible marks scattered throughout the pit stops

Of your life,

And mine,

And so many others along the way.

A study in contrasts,

Your joy at times was abundant and loud,

or serenely calm and subtle,

Your sense of humor ever the prankster,

For years I half expected you to jump out at me in surprise,

Like you used to do when I was bent with my head

Over a laundry basket pulling out clothes.

Your music was full blast or quietly reflective,

Your odd angers seething or explosive,

Your sadness verbalized or contained

after you learned to hold your feelings inside.

Your convictions and sense of injustice was verbal and

Vocalized when you saw those around you treated unfairly.

Add to all of that your deeply held need for truth

In spite of your occasional fabrications,

Your compassionate affection for dogs and cats,

Your obvious loyalty to your friends,

And your fragile hope for angels, God, miracles, magic and love.

I thought no one could love you as much as I did,

Nor as fiercely with such driving compassion,

Such joy, strength and conviction.

Or ever know you as well as I did,

Or be so beguiled by your mercurial lighthearted wit,

Or by your intensely held beliefs and concerns.

After you left on your miraculous journey

I discovered through the years

That you were deeply loved and profoundly missed

By more people than I ever realized you even knew.

How your passing through their lives affected so many

And that the goodbye you failed to give

Left us all astounded, perplexed, and bewildered.

Crying out for you as we wave our long goodbye

I have found through these seven years

Many of your indelible marks etched into the hands, hearts, minds,

And sometimes even the souls of those others you marked along your journey.

On your seventh anniversary this year I asked

You to send me something to say hello,

However you might be able to communicate,

And to make it obvious it was from you cause I was gonna need it.

It needed to be obviously from you,

And I needed it to be real.

No more than five minutes later,

While stepping off a curb with a friend to cross the street

A huge yellow butterfly sailed towards my head,

Circling round and round as I stared up in wonder.

The wind blew so hard that day

The butterfly flopped and careened around me

Nearly hitting me in the face.

Buffeted by the fierce wind its gigantic yellow wings

Repeatedly bent, folded, and lifted like sainted paper

As it fought the wind to stay in place.

I yelled to my friend, “Look at the butterfly!�?/SPAN>

We stood looking up in amazement.

Then as suddenly as it had appeared

The butterfly flapped towards a parking lot and vanished.

“Where did it go?�?my friend asked.

“It’s gone!�?I shouted.

“We don’t have butterflies like that here in Arizona,�?I said.

“We don’t!�?she answered, and then added,

“I’ve never seen a butterfly like that before in my life.�?/SPAN>

Then I told her it was Jordan's day.

And the miracle I had prayed for five minutes earlier.

“That was him,�?she said.

“It sure was from him,�?I said, smiling.

“Just his style and ‘right in your face�? Mom!�?/SPAN>

I touched my butterfly lapel pin I wore,

a present Jordan had given me when he was five.

It was obvious enough.

Thank you Jordan,

Thank you God,

Thank you butterfly,

Thank you Universal Spirit.

I laughed out loud because this time I had a witness

To the special “showing up�?

We both saw it. It was real.

I laughed in joy because miracles happen every day.

Some days I don’t notice them.

Some days I do.

Some days the indelible mark of Jordan

Overpowers me with the beauty, grace,

And sense of humor

That love brings my way

On this miraculous journey.

On Your Miraculous Journey By Vicki Morgan -Copyright April 13, 2006 In Loving Memory of Jordan Robert Morgan March 1980 �?Easter, April 1999