Are you ready to continue on our journey together, our journey back to the beginning, back to when my gift was revealed to me?
Let’s jump to chapter #2.
From page 34 of my book
I was scared to go home. For nearly a month, my mother and the rest of my family had been constantly at my side, both at home and on the ship. When I got back this time, I’d really be alone for the first time—the thought paralyzed me. I’d spent the last year and a half preparing for Ian’s death with my therapist; we talked through the stages of grief, some of which I had experienced while Ian was still alive. Now that Ian was dead, I was simply lost. I didn’t think I could go home and raise the children by myself. On one hand, I felt such a sense of relief that things were over, which I felt far too guilty about to express to anyone. I was also so pissed at Ian for leaving us. I knew he was gone, but I wasn’t able to fully process it or face it. The thought of living on my own was just too terrifying to stare at directly.
Right away, I threw myself into all the things I couldn’t seem to find time to do while Ian was sick: redecorating, landscaping, exercising, getting a new water heater, doing our taxes. As long as I kept busy, I knew I would be free from any pain. It had always been that way for me, and I took on my chores with a newfound verve.
Ian may have been gone, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t exist anymore. For one thing, strange electrical things kept happening in the house. Before he died, two new electric blankets hadn’t been working, the garage door opener had been stuck, and the computer had been flickering, then suddenly after his death they all started working again. I was sure Ian was behind it all.
Two weeks after the cruise, I had to face my first holiday without him. It was the night before Easter, and I was lying in bed thinking about the Easter eggs. It was raining, and I was thinking how I would need to hide the brightly colored plastic eggs, filled with candy, coins and toys, in the house instead of in the yard. Ian was always in charge of the holidays. He loved them and went over the top in preparing for them.
He was the one who usually hid the eggs, and I loved him for that; now I was angry with him for not being there, for not handling all this. I didn’t want to have to carry everything, but even more so, I didn’t want to disappoint the kids. Hadn’t they been through enough?
I looked out the window at the rain. When I turned back to the room, Ian was standing right there. I was stunned, I didn’t move for fear he would disappear. He looked healed and healthy, his normal weight. I knew immediately that I was not imagining it; I was actually seeing his ghost. Seeing him was comforting and confusing at the same time. Yet, overall it felt like a gift, an amazing blessing that was unfolding right before my eyes. He stepped forward, gave me a big hug, and simply said telepathically, “Trust me.” On the same night that Jesus rose from the dead, my husband returned.
After the hug, he went to lie down on the bed. Slowly, right before my eyes, he faded away. At first I was confused, but then I quickly felt comforted. I understood why he was there; he had just given me permission, not just about the Easter eggs, but to celebrate all things in my life in my own way.
In many ways with Ian’s death, life became new. I wasn’t tied down with the worry, despair, anger, and physical demands of caring for a dying person. I still had waves of grief from his loss, bad days mixed in with the good, but I also felt like now, finally, I could live life again.
Get a copy of my book here.
“As a filmmaker, I first knew Lisa (Sharpe) Jones as an actress of great spirit and sensitivity.
Thus, I could not have been surprised that she would channel this same spirit and sensitivity into her writing. However, her memoir Art of Living Happy is a revelation of sorts. Weaving seamlessly between universally shared human dramas of love, death and money and the more inexplicable realm of the Wisdom of the Ages, psychic phenomenon and angels, Lisa invites us to share in her journey to spiritual awakening with such a simple and direct style that believers and disbelievers will all relate in some way to her quest to find her own truth and to live it fully. A captivating and inspiring journey from start to finish.”
– David Giardina, award-winning filmmaker
and director of Taffy Was Born