Although I was aware of her overall health, imagine my surprise and delight when Nettie’s soul-energy plopped down in the seat in my Prius while I was driving to Montrose on an errand, a several hundred-mile trip. She was her usual bossy self and insisted that I stop at the next small roadside park so she could enjoy the melodic mountain stream fed by the spring run-off. It was a gray day, no sun and just enough wind to put a chill to your bones.
No, you go check it out without me. I have an appointment and I’m running late. You go ~ then come back and we’ll chat.
She absolutely insisted I stop. I knew how ill she was: I obliged. Admittedly I enjoyed the rollicking joyful creek as much as she did. Fifteen minutes later when we were back in the car, Nettie insisted that she wanted to hear a particular children’s song from Philadelphia Chickens that I loved. I obliged. (This indicated that Nettie had visited before and I had not picked up her presence.) The music started … then the silly singing ~ “Cows, we’re remarkable cows”, she threw back her head and laughed heartedly. From that time on I was very aware of her popping in and out; she spent many more days in our mountain home before she died.
A few weeks after Nettie’s death, a casual acquaintance of my husbands contacted me with a message. Thanks Mariann. I want you to know that my family and friends did not know when I visited so I spent lots of time in the mountains with you ~ I had a great time. Things are good again. Just wanted you to know!”