by Anna Huckabee Tull
Each month, for the first twelve months after Marie Pechet’s passing, I will carry her Blog forward, sharing about Marie in ways that I hope you will find meaningful, connective, and honoring of our shared friend.
Today marks the one year anniversary of the day my father died.
He died four months before Marie did.
One day, two months after he was gone and two months before she would make her own exit, Marie said to me, “I’ve seen your father. I’ve seen him a number of times.”
This was fascinating and strange to me on a number of levels. For one thing, my dad was not alive. For another, Marie never met my dad. I’m not sure if she had ever even seen a picture of him.
I’m also not sure that matters.
What occurred to me, as she shared this with me, was that it was starting to feel like perhaps Marie’s own time was coming close.
Maybe you can see things that you normally can’t see–be visited by people you normally can’t be visited by–when your own end is drawing near, and when the lines between this world and whatever happens next begin to blur.
I was really happy to know that she had seen my dad, and I told her so. We left it at that.