Signs from Sofia

Since Sofia passed away, I’ve been exposed to an abundance of people who are grieving the loss of their loved ones. Either directly, through stories I’ve heard or things I’ve read. I’ve also been quite active trying to work on my own grief too. I’ve interacted with a grief counsellor, I’ve read books, listened to podcasts, watched videos and, very recently, joined a group session organized by Canuck Place. One of the most common behaviours I’ve observed among grieving individuals is their deliberate avoidance of visual reminders of their loss, which could potentially trigger emotional distress. For some, that might look like removing pictures in their house. For others, it might be avoiding places or people where memories are their most intense. It’s rational behaviour if you ask me. Even if you’re not grieving a loved one, everyone likely has a tendency to find ways to avoid things that might cause pain. Yet, for whatever reason, it hasn’t been my path. Instead, I’ve found myself putting pictures of Sofia everywhere I can. I want to see her every minute of every day. If there’s a place or person that brings me back to a moment with Sofia, that’s where I feel my best. There’s pain in those moments still; but not enough to outweigh the comfort those opportunities to feel closer to Sofia offer.

With all that said, I wondered if being away from home for a while might offer me a sense of relief. Maybe these people are onto something, maybe waking up in a home with no past memories of Sofia will help make my days just a little lighter.

When I’m at home, I start my day waking up in the same bed that Sofia slept in since last September. When she first came home from the hospital, Sam and I both couldn’t let Sofia be away from us for long. Even though her bedroom was only steps away, we wanted her closer. So she slept between Sam and me every night until her last. 

My next steps bring me to our bathroom where we have a big tub to the left of where I brush my teeth. Baths were a bit of a challenge for her since her cancer diagnosis because she had a central line surgically attached on the right side of her chest. It was protected by bandages but none of us felt too comfortable with her bathing so her baths became pretty intentional activities rather than the playtime it used to be. Yet, I still so fondly remember so many moments with her and Carter in that bathtub. Carter could make her laugh like nobody else and they could play in there for hours if we let them. 

Clothes on, teeth brushed, ready to start the day, I head out of our room and the first thing I see is a flex area of our house. Today, it’s a pretty boring area with a couch and not much more. But before it was where Sofia’s play kitchen and grocery store used to be. She loved playing there. When I walk by, I can’t help but laugh to myself when I think about how she would boss me around in her kitchen if I wasn’t doing something to her liking. Or smiling as I imagine her there again, playing with her best friend, Maeve.

My next stop is to feed the dogs and make a coffee. Sofia used to often join me for this part. I’d grab my coffee and she’d grab her bottle of milk and we’d eventually hang out on the couch for a bit. I can still see her so clearly; the way she curled her body against the pillows of the couch, raised the bottle to her mouth and began her morning routine, enjoying her favourite show. 

I could go on and on but I think the conclusion here is obvious. At home, memories are everywhere. In every inch of our house, in our backyard, in our front yard, in the streets around our house, in the neighbours I see every day. They’re all great memories, and I’ve found so much comfort in all of them. But I was curious how removing myself from that environment would alter my journey in grief.

Sofia had only joined us in Mazatlan once, and most of the visual cues that would remind me of moments with her here are away from my typical day’s path. I wake in a bed she’d never slept in, our bathroom here doesn’t even have a tub, and every step of the house is foreign to me. Completely void of any memories. With Sofia or anyone. And yet, 10 days into my time here, I feel her presence more than ever. I do miss the visual cues scattered around my house, but I somehow feel closer to her right now than I did at home. A few things have happened to us since being here that have reinforced that feeling.

Lady bugs, a tennis ball, and a Sharpie:

Ladybugs

As many of you reading this will know, Samantha has been seeing ladybugs as a sign from her mom for years. She lost her mother almost 15 years ago, and she’s consistently found the presence of ladybugs to be of great comfort to her. A sign that her mom was watching over her still. When Sofia left us, naturally, Sam would associate those ladybugs with her too. They mean so much to her that she had a couple of them tattooed on her arm. Seeing ladybugs in Canada isn’t exactly a rare occurrence. They are fairly common. But even I had to admit the volume of ladybugs we were seeing was a bit crazy. In the weeks before we left, we would see 5-6 in the same spot at our house sometimes. But in Mexico, they don’t seem to be common at all. In fact, according to her friends here, they are rarely ever seen. And yet, when Sam was coming home last weekend, what did she see on her shirt as she entered the condo??? Of course! A ladybug! That was my first sign that Sofia’s presence was as close as ever.

Another ladybug appeared earlier today. We were walking the cart path near our house as the caddy ahead waved at us and asked us to wait while his group teed off. We perched ourselves behind a shrub and waited for them to hit their tee shots before we'd pass. And what is sitting upon one the shrub's leaves?? A ladybug. A friend of ours, Julio, said last night he can only remember seeing one in his whole life here in Mazatlan. Sam and I have been here 10 days and we've seen 2! And if you think of all the things that had to line up so perfectly to ensure we stopped at that shrub at that exact moment, it's really hard not to convinced that these are signs from above. If we had left our house a moment earlier or later, we would have walked along the path as we intended rather than stepping aside behind that shrub. In all likelihood, never seeing that ladybug. Sure feels like we were meant to see it.

Tennis ball

I was given a book from one of Sam’s friends (Ana Gabriela) when she came to stay with us in May. It’s called Signs and it’s meant to teach us to recognize signs our loved ones might be sending to us. In one of the first chapters, there’s a story of a father whose wife sees signs but he, himself, is a bit skeptical they are truly signs rather than just convenient coincidences she’s observing as signs to cope with her loss. So he chooses to ask for a very specific sign that can’t be misconstrued as merely a coincidence. He asks for his sign to be a skunk. The next day, his wife tells him he needs to go outside to clean up a mess….caused by a skunk!!

I can relate a bit to this guy. I have found some comfort in the ladybugs but I think most of that was just comfort in knowing that they were helping Samantha. The first ladybug showing up in Mexico earlier in the week was nudging me closer to believing but I wasn’t wholly convinced yet. So I decided to make a specific request of my own for a sign that Sofia is truly with us still. Carter was due to have his first Padel class later that day and they use tennis balls. So with that on my mind, and generally lacking creativity so early in the morning, I asked for my sign to be a tennis ball.

Shortly after making that request, I began my day, as I often have here, with a 5km morning run around the golf course. I got out early enough before the golfers teed off for the day. It was just me, the occasional morning walker and the beautiful sunset. As I neared the midway point of my run, I saw a small, bright yellow or green object up ahead near the next hole’s tee box. As I got closer, it was exactly what I had hoped it was. A tennis ball! In the middle of a golf course! This was not a convenient coincidence. Couldn’t be, right? I made a very specific request for a sign from Sofia and there it was less than an hour later.

Sharpie

Last night, we were rushing a bit to get to the Venados baseball game. We had found out late that there was a chance we could get Carter on the field before the game if we arrived earlier than we were planning. As we quickly wrapped up dinner and got Carter dressed for the game, Carter asked if we had a Sharpie to bring to the game so he could ask the players for autographs. Considering we only packed the essentials for Mexico, we most definitely did not have a Sharpie in our condo to bring. We told Carter we could buy one another time and bring it to the next game.

We managed to get everyone ready to go and headed out front to wait for our ride. A friend of Sam's lent us his golf cart so we can get around the community here easily. As we waited for our ride, Carter and I sat against that golf cart. As I leaned against the driver's side, I noticed something at the back of the storage space next to cup holders and the slots where you position your tees. It was pretty dark so I had to reach for the item and bring it in for closer inspection but it wouldn't take long to realize the lonely item in that bin was a Sharpie! Exactly what Carter had asked for just moments ago. Why was there a Sharpie in our golf cart?? And how did we only discover it in that exact moment so soon after Carter has asked for one??

The ladybug from the shrub and the tennis ball found on the golf course