Thanksgiving Angel

Hey Steve.
In my bedroom, on the dresser, are John's ashes in the locket I have under a glass dome, which I wear occasionally, especially on flights and stressful days when I particularly need his strength, along with his ashes to be mixed with mine. Also hanging on that dresser is his cap, the black one with 'Stihl' on it that he wore so often, with his sweat stains still showing. His picture I love of him in his helmet, ready to race in Florida, with his eyes in a thoughtful expression, 'thinking of me' as he told me; the angel wind chimes he bought me at our last race trip, hanging beside the dresser.

Today I was in the kitchen preparing Thanksgiving dinner. Tisha was watching her dog Rev, as he was acting peculiarly in my bedroom. She said "he smells something in your room Mama". I came to the door to watch, as we both observed Rev with his ears up listening intently trying to track something down, not barking, just sniffing in the air, around my bed, into the bathroom, back around the bed, looking towards John, then jumped up on the bed, to sniff higher in the air, looked at John again, then got down, went around the room again, and came right back focused on John again.

He was here Steve, just as he was on each Thanksgiving we were together, with his silence even as then. Yes, I believe in angels and as so many times since he departed in body, I've known his presence each and every time, still loving me, still watching over me, still concerned over me, like on the boat when I came up out of the ocean sick and had to have oxygen in the Captain's room, and John tapped on the window above me, smiled and raised his hand and waved at me to let me know he was there with me.

Yes, he was here.
Love you.
Vicki Lynne
11/27/03