Coincidence...?

When I was a little girl, I thought my mother was a movie star.  She was beautiful, and possessed a very French je ne sais quoi, much like Coco Chanel.  She wore Chanel suits and Chanel No. 5 fragrance, and she never left home without being impeccably dressed.  Often, when she and I went shopping, we would meet some of my friends from school, and the following day they would say to me, "Omigoodness, your mother is so beautiful; what happened to you?"  *sigh*  I inherited most of my genes from my father's side of the family, along with his rather pointy Gallic nose.  My mother was a brilliant artist, she was well-read and extremely intellectual, and she was very, very funny, with a slightly off-colour sense of humour.  Wherever she went, she was the centre of attention, and she knew it.  One year we were invited to a Christmas party in West Vancouver at the home of the C.E.O. of one of Canada's major banks.  The party was filled with snooty doyennes from the British Properties.  My mother walked in, sat on one of the chesterfields and began chatting with folks.  Within ten minutes, everyone in the room had gravitated towards her as she entertained them with her wonderful stories.    I laughed, "Oh, yes."

My mother, "Gambie" was very fond of my daughter.  They had a special connection, and I do believe those connections endure.  Some scientists believe that time is not linear, but an endlessly repeating loop.  So, what is happening now has happened before, or will happen again, or is perhaps even happening at the same time.  It might explain some strange events.  Last year my daughter took Phinnaeus and Marigold to Victoria on Vancouver Island for a three-day outing.  On their way back to Vancouver, they stopped at my mother's final resting place just outside Victoria, and took her some flowers.  They phoned me and said they were there, and I told them it was a wonderful coincidence, because -- unbeknownst to them -- it just happened to be her birthday on that very day, and she would be pleased to meet Phinnaeus and Marigold, and receive flowers on her birthday.

When my mother passed away, I inherited a lot of furniture that I didn't have room to keep.  I kept the pieces that I loved the most -- her Queen Anne desk and a few other things -- and the rest I sold.  One piece that I regretted selling was a footstool that she had done in needlepoint.  I have looked for it over the years, but could never find it.  Yesterday, my daughter took Phinnaeus and Marigold on a day outing to some antique stores in the Fraser Valley.  Yes, you guessed it -- there was the footstool.  My daughter sent me a text with the image of the stool, and I recognized it immediately.  It's a little worse for the wear after several years, but it's the same stool.  

Today is my mother's birthday.

Do we receive messages from beyond the veil that divides us from the people we have loved and lost?  No one knows, but it is comforting to think so.  At some place in time, Gambie is very pleased that she has not been forgotten, and she is sending everyone reminders that, yes, she is still here.  We just have to look.  And yes, my daughter bought the stool and took it home.