9

My friend’s mother has just moved away, over 2,000 miles away, so I’ve been checking in with her occasionally, just cause. This friend is a strong woman, a very positive soul, but I still feel the need to check in. As always, she is fine and it ended up being me that needed the pep talk. While chatting about “all that is Gail”, I had been parked in my car. As chance would have it, my eye caught something sitting in the decorative rocks near my parking spot. It was a die and I could actually see the dots. My friend asked me what number was showing and I reported that 6 was showing, but I could also see the other side and it was 3. Without missing a beat she said, “Oooo, 9 that means endings.” and she proceeded to be excited for me because she thought I was going to be ending a current situation and starting a new one.

According to Google: 9 is wisdom and responsibility, and the ultimate goal of the number 9 is to serve humanity. … Number 9 learns selflessness and compassion. People with the 9 energy work without motive and their purpose is for the greatest good of all. They have a protective energy and they have great power and love in their soul. All of this got me thinking about John the pilot. Yes, he rattles about my mind from time to time, maybe more than I like to admit. I have had no contact with him for close to 6 months, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t visit me on a regular basis. His voice is in my head, saying all the things I want to hear, but in reality, there is silence.

Just last night, around 4:19 am I thought I was dreaming, but maybe I wasn’t. I could have sworn that I heard a man’s voice say “Hello” to me. For a moment, I contemplated responding, but I was afraid. What if it was a ghost? Would I be inviting them into my reality if I responded? Actually, it sounded like the deceased actor Alan Rickman, someone I had cherished, especially for his voice. Why would Alan Rickman want to chat with me? Hmmm, maybe he wanted to inform me about this whole “endings” business. I sat up in bed and looked around my room. No ghost, but I still felt haunted.

I dated John for 9 years (there’s that number again) and I have been told that it may take me 9 years to get over him. I certainly hope not, that wouldn’t be fair. Odds are he has a new sugar mama or two, or three by now, why should I remain alone for another 7 years. Come September (the 9th month of the year), it will be 2 years since my eyes were forced open and my world of illusion was smashed to smithereens. I had hopes of spending the rest of my life with him, I even wanted to marry him, something I didn’t think I would ever want to do to myself ever again. I even concocted a spell of sorts involving the spotting of turtles in random places. If he/I/we spied a turtle, that meant he had to marry me. They were everywhere, but it simply was not meant to be.

Since then, I have come to note that turtles represent perseverance. I still wear my turtle bracelet and love looking for turtles when I visit the Morton Arboretum, but I no longer associate them with “living happily ever after”. Instead, they mean I will be okay, I will keep on going, alone if need be. But what about that voice in the darkness? Could it be the voice of my future mate waiting for me to find him? Maybe spotting the die among the decorative river rock was a message telling me that it is time to move on. Two years is long enough to grieve the future I once thought would be mine. I could be very happy with an “Alan Rickman” like gentleman at my side. Someone who would say all the words I long to hear with that amazing deep and entrancing voice. Someone who would love me “Truly, Madly, Deeply” a 1990 Fantasy/Romance film starring Alan Rickman that if you haven’t seen, please do!

I suppose over the past 2 years I have gained wisdom and responsibility and maybe on some level I am serving humanity with my little blog. I do try to practice selflessness and compassion. However, I doubt that I work without motive and have a purpose that is for the greatest good of all. I do feel that I have a protective energy and have great power and love in my soul. So, I suppose the number 9 does represent me on some level, maybe more than one. Sitting here, I keep playing with it, turning the die one side to another. One, the number that I am. Two, the number I hope to become, Three, my children and I. Four, the family we had been before my father’s passing. Five, the life I lived so very long ago when my husband was still a part of this family. Six, six…six…a 6 pack of beer comes to mind, but what about the number 6? Maybe that’s the number of years I have to be patient before I meet my knight in shining armor. Two down, four to go. I can wait four years. I’ve been told that I have the patience of a saint, but who’s to say I can’t have a little fun in the meantime.

Nah, I think I’m done with the “experimental” side of my die. I’m willing to wait for my “Alan Rickman” to find me. Folks that know me would agree that statement is definitely a sign of an ending, the end of an era of me being too eager to find someone to be with, to find someone that was willing to be with me, just someone. Now, I’m willing to roll the die and keep rolling until I find the man who is the voice in the darkness, brave enough and wise enough to say “Hello Gail”.

#thelieswechoosetolivewith