The first loved one that past that I remember had to be my PaPa.  I remember being close to him and my Mema.  I remember he was this tall thin mad who smiled all the time – even after being diagnosed with cancer.  Ever picture of the two of us was of him smiling.  When he passed away, I was very young, maybe 6 or 7 years old.  The chaos around his funeral I do not remember.  I do remember sitting in my dad’s lap while the funeral service was going on, and everyone crying around me.  I remember seeing my Papa in his casket looking peaceful like he was napping. 

After the funeral and I’m talking months after the funeral, I found myself looking at these beautiful, big, fluffy clouds.  The thought that crossed my mind was that my PaPa was walking above the clouds.   Remember, I was under the age of 10 when I began to believe this.  I guess a part of me still does, especially since my husband is living above the clouds now.

I love looking at the clouds.  I love how magnificent they look.  How grand they appear.  All at the same time, looking soft.  I even enjoy looking at them when the storms are rolling in.  They seem angry, ready to attack.

The first time I flew to California to visit my Mema, I was so excited because I was going to be high up with the clouds.  Then when the plane flew into the clouds and arrived above them, I, even at an older age, was sad that what I believed as a young child wasn’t true at all.  Silly how as a young child, our beliefs are so strong.  Strong enough to carry us to our young adult lives.

I still love looking at the clouds, and part of me still believes that my loved ones, our loved ones walk on top of the clouds.  Some even make those unique clouds that catch only our attention.

I remember a time a few months back.  I was returning from a grief support group, and right in front of me were three large clouds, and the one in the middle had lightning flashing in it just the middle cloud.  It was a fantastic sight to see. Of course, I did not stop and get my phone out to take a photo.  I did, however, describe it to a friend who is an amazing artist.  I traded with her to paint these clouds on my bible.  

My daughter now notices the clouds.  She believes that her daddy helps God make them.  I like that thought.  Thoughts like that help my kids and me heal through this journey of grief.  The heartache of not seeing my husband can get overwhelming.  But when I go outside and look at the clouds, I feel a peace come over me.  It’s how I keep my husband close.

Have you ever noticed clouds that no one else did?  If you did just, maybe it was made for you to see and only you.