I haven't told you this before, but...

No, it's true.  There are, oh... I think less than 6 people on the planet I've told this to.  And it's probably fewer than that, I don't remember.  I'm not sure what's compelling me to write about this today either.  I thought of it again yesterday, the story that is, and how long it's been since I thought of it.  Maybe that's why.  Maybe I'm finally ready to put it out there for the general public.

First a disclaimer or two...  I really don't consider myself to be some kind of delusional nut job.  I know some people have really strong beliefs about this type of thing, on both sides, but I think for me, there's too much unknown associated with it to have a real conviction for or against.

Anyway... here goes...

When the Blond Child's Mother died in 2006, I obviously had a few rough days.  Ok, more than a few.  But I really think I was handling it appropriately.  In fact, the boy child wanted to stay with me for awhile, he was worried about me, wanted to make sure I was ok, but I sent him home after a couple days.  I needed some time to be.

Just to be.

I was fortunate that I had a lot of sick time built up at work, and I took full advantage of it.  Just wasn't ready to face the well-meaning but misguided questions that always come with something like a sudden, unexpected death.

So, I tried to settle into myself for a while, tried to find my new normal.

After the Blond Child was killed, her Mother started sleeping with the tv on.  She slept poorly and when she woke she'd watch it to help fall back to sleep.  So, I became used to falling asleep with the tv on.

It was just a regular part of my routine.

One night, about three weeks after the funeral, I went upstairs to go to bed.  I walked over to the chair next to my bed, grabbed the remote, turned on the tv, set the remote back on the chair and went in to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Took care of my business and when I came out of the bathroom, I noticed the tv was off.

I thought it was odd, thought maybe the dog had grabbed the remote and hit the power button with a tooth or some other one-in-a-million thing.

I turned the tv back on and climbed into bed, setting the remote on the chair again.

Within seconds, the tv shut off again.

I grabbed the remote, thinking I had set it down too hard and hit the power button, and turned the tv back on.  I carefully set the remote on the chair.

Again, withing seconds, the tv shut off.

"Ohhh the stupid button must be sticking on the stupid remote" I thought, so I turned the tv on again and this time I set the remote down (carefully) facing AWAY from the tv.

About 30 seconds later the tv shut off again.

"DAMMIT!!!" I said "WHAT THE"

And then, I caught myself.

And I stopped.

And I smiled.

Because, in that instant, in my head, I had a flash image of the Blond Child and her Mother.  Two of the biggest practical jokers you'd ever meet.  Looking at me and laughing at me.

They got me.

I looked at the ceiling, smiling and said "would you two knock it off!" and turned on the tv.

Now, as I said, I don't know what to make of this little tale.  I know what I believed at the time, when I needed to believe more than anything in the world that they were together again, and happy.

But as time has passed, I sometimes wonder what it might have been.  I still want to believe that it was those two letting me know they were ok.  But I think my natural cynicism may eventually push that away.

I hope not.

The tv?  It was still on when I woke up the next morning.