Death is never easy for the ones left behind.  Unless, of course, you get a sign.

This past Memorial Day weekend, my daughter-in-law, Jessica, lost the man who raised her to a totally unexpected spontaneous ailment. It is such a new loss that I am not sure the shock has worn off yet.  His name was Nathan, but he affectionally became known as Pops.  He was a generous man who shared his skill of woodworking with everyone, making furniture and building decks for the people he loved.  There was no task too small or too big that Nathan would not undertake if it meant he could help. 

My husband, John, and I were in awe of his talent as a carpenter, something we have no skill in.  The one thing we did share with Nathan “Pops” is our two grandchildren, Boston and Finley.  To say that our three-and-a-half-year-old grandson idolized Pops would be an understatement.  Simply put, he was one of Boston’s heroes.  

Want to hear something creepy?

The heartache over Nathan’s loss was raw and keeping Boston busy was our goal.  Which leads us to the present, when my husband and I went to pick up our grandson to spend the weekend at our home. 

As our daughter-in-law, Jessica, was gathering his things, Boston ran through the house dressed as Catboy in a pajama set his Nan and Pops bought him. Our son, Tony, was busy bouncing 11 month old Finley on his knee when he said, “You want to hear something creepy?”

I replied, “Yes.”  He proceeded to tell us how the night before he was playing video games in the living room when at ten o’clock, Boston woke up thirsty.  Tony said he shut the game off to get his son a drink of water when he heard music playing. But not just any kind of music.  He heard music from a music box. 

He asked little Boston if he heard the music and Boston said he could hear it, too. 

My son and grandson then spent the next few minutes trying to find the source of the music, but never could find it.  He sent Boston back to bed and the music stopped. Tony continued playing his game.


The next morning, Tony asked Jessica if they owned a music box because he and Boston heard it playing while she slept. 

She said they did not have a music box and the subject was more or less dropped until he shared this story with us.  At the same time, Jessica walked into the living room and, hearing Tony share the story, she chimed in with some more details saying that the only music box they had seen or been around recently was one given to them at Pops funeral, but, she quickly added that her mother, Teresa, took it to her home. 

Upon hearing this, I drilled my son to make sure it was a music box that he heard and not some child’s toy.  He was adamant that he knew it was a music box and not a toy and furthermore, they were unable to find the source of the music. 

I then suggested that they call Jessica’s mother to see if she heard music that night, too. 

It was a long shot, but they said they would call her and with that we left with Boston to have a fun filled weekend.

You won’t believe it.

On the drive home my phone rang.  It was our son, Tony. 

“Mom, you will not believe what Teresa told us.”  His voice was filled with excitement! She said she did hear the music because at 10 o’clock, she was playing the music box while thinking of Pops.

“What?!” I exclaimed, “You are kidding!”  “No Mom, I am not joking,” said Tony.  “Teresa said she was up playing the music box and thinking of Pops at the exact time Boston and I heard a music box playing.” 

“Tony, I have goosebumps!  I think you just got a sign.  A sign from Nathan that he is ok.”  Tony agreed as we were both giddy with the thought.

Teresa lives over 5 miles away from Jessica and Tony. It was physically impossible for them to hear the music box she was playing, yet, believe it or not, it appears they did.  

In life Nathan “Pops”  was a master carpenter and in death he is building bridges. Life is mysterious.

John 5:25 “Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.”

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