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part 1: everything

I've been so angry with Enzo. Not a "you died" kind of mad. 
A "where the hell are the signs you promised me" kind of mad. 
He did say more than once he would haunt, send signs, do something to contact this realm if he "ever dies." I had no idea the breadth of those words.

So for months I've waited. For something. Anything. 

Nothing, and I mean nothing, ever showed. A specific song has played twice on the radio. That's it. 

That's it!?!?!?
I began to question it all. The adoption never actually happened. I have no proof of his incredible presence in our family, the connection we built, cried through, laughed through, grew into. I have pictures. That's all. 

Scrolling through the internet, I came across a reminder. A single word. One word. 

Serendipity. 
The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. 

Enzo talked so passionately about Serendipity. He loved the idea, the concept. He connected events, circumstances, and things in every way he could. And told me about them. 

I don't have to have such clear and direct signs. Anything I need to be a sign, is. That's it. I don't care what anyone else thinks about what I consider to be a sign from my dead son. To NOT seek something, a form of communication, after such tremendous loss is a strange thing. 

Becoming emotional at the sunset, a song, a color, a place, an item: that's living with grief. The world tells grieving people "we don't like your grief so move on." Our sadness makes others uncomfortable so we hide it. 

Not me. I want the world to bear witness to my pain. Grief is the only thing I have left of him. So I will tell the world about it for the rest of my life. I honor his place in my heart by doing this. 
And I'll use everything as a sign he is still with me. 

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