The day of Jonathan's funeral was approaching. There was a strange chill of silence in their house; nobody wanted to talk about this event, everyone was walking around like a sleepwalker. It was an initial shock, and no one believed what had happened. The first phase of loss had already taken place. Everyone still believed that the door would open soon and Jonathan would come walking in, healthy and laughing as he always did. The day before the funeral, I wandered around Natalie's house, making sure it was well cleaned and prepared for the wake the following day. As was the custom at this event, acquaintances and people from the neighborhood brought baskets of sandwiches and various snacks. In this way, they expressed their regret. Jonathan's father Michael stood in the kitchen, his soulless gaze out the window, as if he was waiting for something.Natalie tried to make room in the fridge for all the snacks. Nervousness and tension could be seen and felt from her every movement and tense muscles in her face. She wanted to have the whole thing over with, and if it were in her power to erase that day, she would do so. I couldn’t stand to watch them in so much agony, I felt I had to say something. Their pain, which filled the room, made the space difficult to breathe. "Michael, I'm sorry, but I have something to tell you," I broke the heavy silence. He looked at me, and I saw in his eyes as if something had died in him. As if part of his soul had gone with his son. All the words I had were; "Michael, I just want to tell you that I feel your pain, but I also feel a lot of pressure on your chest. Please don't shut yourself in, but try to talk about it. You have to let that pressure out, otherwise you risk a heart attack." He looked at me with a frightened look, thanked me for the warning, and quickly left the kitchen. He was not ready for any advice or help. He needed to accept and cope with his son's death in his own time and in his own way. Before Jonathan's death, he used to run home once or twice a week for lunch, when he liked to talk to me. But after his son's death, he started avoiding me. I understood him and didn't push him. I knew he needed time. Unlike him, Natalie was looking for my company. She had a lot of questions that she needed answers to, and she hoped I would help her to answer them. Apologizing for her husband's reaction she whispered to me in a low voice; "You must have scared Michael a lot with you warning, about a year and a half ago he overcome a minor heart attack.” I wasn't surprised, even though I had never known the information until that day ...
Everyone in the family had already left for the funeral. I needed to finish something else at work and only then go to say goodbye to Jonathan. During the car ride there, I began to feel nervous and panicked, and I felt worried if I could manage it in there. It wasn't just because of Jonathan, whom I loved and whose family had grown close to my heart over the years. Rather, it was a fear of what might happen at the funeral because of my ability to perceive the energies of others and communicate with souls. I didn't plan to cause a commotion there but with the smaller and smaller distance to the house of sorrow, the feeling of panic escalated. I knew that these were not just my feelings and that Jonathan's soul was connecting to me. He felt that by losing his body, which was to be transported to the crematorium and cremated after the ceremony, he would lose complete contact with the earth through his material form. Tears pressed into my eyes; it was hard for me to focus on the road. The feelings of panic that were pushing towards me from Jonathan, and which at that moment also became my own, caused me to get lost twice on the way. I asked God for strength to reach the ceremony on time and keep myself quiet. I sensed the pain and feelings of his soul. I asked him, if he should have any message for his parents or anything else that he wanted to tell me to pass on, to let it happen at home and not in front of many grieving people. I entered the lower building. The entrance hall was full of people, and this made me even more nervous.I wanted to find the farewell hall as soon as possible, hide somewhere, and endure a mourning ceremony. A photo projection of photos from his childhood until adulthood began playing on the large screen in front of the room. Looking at the photos on the screen I noticed his beautiful blue eyes, they awoke a strange feeling of sadness. He did not smile in any of the photos. Although his mind probably had no idea what awaited him, his soul knew the truth; knowing that it would not be on earth for long. That look on his face did not belong to a 23-year-old boy full of life; there was no feeling of youthful carelessness, recklessness, or mischief from him, all which were natural to his age. It was as if an old man was looking at me through his eyes, experiencing hard times in life and looking at life differently. (After the funeral, Natalie and I were discussing my observations, and she admitted that she had noticed the same thing.) I found a place in the back bench by the wall. The ceremony lasted about forty minutes. During it, several people who knew Jonathan well gave speeches. They mentioned the nice and funny stories they experienced with him. I felt Jonathan's presence intensely again. I began to rummage nervously in my purse. I was looking for a pen and paper. I had to write throughout the ceremony. I recorded Jonathan's feelings, thoughts, and memories. The man sitting next to me looked at me several times with a suspicious look. He must have been interested in who I was and what I was writing about. I did not care. I wanted to capture as much as possible of what was coming to me. After the ceremony, I waited in a long queue to say my condolences.I wanted to get over it as soon as possible. However, when I approached Natalie, Jonathan began to speak. I hugged her and let him talk over me. "Mom, I will always be here with you. When you feel that you are missing me the most, just listen to the beating of your own heart, in which you will hear mine as well. My heart will belong to you forever. "Tears rolled down her face and hugged me tighter. With this quiet and inconspicuous gesture, she showed me her gratitude for this brief, contact with her son. I hurried out. I literally ran out to get some fresh air, taking in a deep breath. I was glad it was over. However, I knew that for his family, the most difficult period was yet to come. It wasn't easy for me either. Every time I cleaned Natalie's bathroom; I cried a lot of tears. I felt her pain, which could be carried out and measured in pounds. She secretly poured it right there, but still seeming strong and composed in front of her younger son Michael. She knew how much he was suffering, so she suppressed her true feelings before him. During the following weeks, the house felt the next phase of the grieving process. After the first phase came the phase of anger. Anger was suddenly everywhere. The initial anger was directed at God.Then Natalie began blaming herself, remembering any exchange she had with Jonathan during her life. She suddenly blamed herself for everything. Remorse accumulated and the space cracked at the seams. I called my girlfriend Erika in Slovakia a few times, crying, when I couldn't do it anymore and didn't want to work there anymore. It was as if I was taking my pain with me and feeling it everywhere. The whole house cried and was angry at the same time. She was a friend with whom I found support in difficult situations, and after one such desperate phone call, she said some wonderful words that resonated with me: “Ajka, God has a wonderful plan for you. Don't fight and start listening. Nothing happens by accident. You don't even realize that you are helping them with your presence. Do you not realize that God puts his peace through you and everything you take in your hand, even the linen you iron and fold, God puts his peace and heals their wounds? You're in the right place at the right time, and you will leave when the right time comes." Her statement shook me hard. At that moment, I realized that nothing was as it seemed. Because everything in our lives, even situations that seem insignificant on the outside, can have a profound meaning for us or our surroundings; and at that moment I stopped fighting.
Natalie eventually began to sort out Jonathan's things. She gave some to charity, put the very personal things she wanted to keep in a box and put them in a cupboard. Always before entering his room, I asked his permission. During his life, I respected his privacy and even after his death, I knew that he often returned there. Souls, especially after a sudden and tragic death, do not leave immediately. Some of them don't even want to admit at first that they are really dead. Most souls continue to stay around their loved ones to help them deal with their loss. They leave only when they feel that they no longer have to worry about them. Even then, they stop by from time to time to come and see how we're doing. When we experience something difficult, they come to support us or try to help us from the other side. I noticed a pattern that Jonathan was returning home at the same time as during his life. He still could not disengage from earthly life and activities close to him, during which he made his presence quite loud, as he had done during his life. I heard a loud thud from his room, as if he had placed something on the table, and a moment later something had fallen on the floor. It didn't scare me, quite the opposite. I always enjoyed his arrival. Sometimes I could smell the perfume he was using, as if he had just passed me. I entered his room to clean it. My attention was drawn to a diploma lying on the table. I've never seen it there before so naturally I was curious what it was and so I stepped closer and started reading. It was an award he received for writing poems. I had no idea. Even when, shortly before his death, I needed to tell him that he had the soul of an artist and that he should write. A few days after our conversation, I discovered two books in his room that he had bought just before he died. They were books with instructions on how to become a writer.Only then did I realize what I had told him during our last conversation. I suddenly understood that the children I had seen around him were children and angels with whom he was now in heaven with; everything fit together. I was just sorry that for many things; sometimes people feel remorse only when its too late. Sometimes it is difficult to be able to decipher the exact meaning of the visions, symbols, or shapes that the other side shows me. I blamed myself for a long time, thinking I could have prevented it. Over time, however, I understand that the most important things in life cannot be avoided. About a month after Jonathan's death, I found an open police record in their kitchen of two of Jonathan's accidents that took place four and six months before his death. He escaped from both without injury, only with broken bumpers on the left and right.The angel of death had already given a warning at the time, preparing the way for Jonathan’s departure. The third last accident had an initial scenario similar to the first two. Because Jonathan had a strong and safe pick-up truck, he still did not injure himself after the accident and, together with the other participants in the accident, waited on the emergency sidewalk for the police to arrive. A few minutes later, however, another incoming car crashed on the concrete wall at a tremendous speed and immediately killed them. That is why I no longer really believe in coincidences, and I know that the previous two accidents were just warnings before the last, irreversible tragedy.
Christmas time was now fast approaching; it would be the first Christmas without Jonathan. I was not used to giving Natalie and her family gifts, rather I baked them six or seven types of Slovak Christmas desserts every year, which always made them very happy. Every year, Natalie built a beautiful two-and-a-half-meter-tall tree. She decorated it with home-made ornaments made by her sons. On the decorations were photographs from different periods of their lives. She loved Christmas. The time when she could finally turn off and spend it with her loved ones, because during the year she and her husband were remarkably busy with work. She used to build the tree in early December and gradually placed different gifts under it. One morning, when I came to work, I found Natalie still at home doing something in the living room. To my surprise, I saw a Christmas tree all dressed in white, including white decorations. It was beautiful, but different .... Natalie was waiting for my reaction and what I would tell her about the new tree. She justified her choice to me with the words: “Everything is suddenly different, and nothing will ever be the same again. I could no longer build the tree I was used to building over the years.” I tried to hide my true feelings from her. If I had let them go, I would cry in an instant. "It's beautiful Natalie, really beautiful. You made the right choice." - I desperately tried to release the tension. Suddenly the idea to buy them a nice gift came to me. I knew who had whispered the idea to me. After work, I went to the mall, where the decorations on every corner and store display indicated that Christmas was almost here. I had no idea what to buy them. "Jonathan," I said inside, "please help me. I want to buy them something that will remind them of you. A gift that I will receive as a sign and a greeting from you from the other side." I wasn’t really sure what kind of shops were in the mall and so I simply let myself be led by and walked slowly down the hall, carefully observing each window display. I stopped in front of a store, where my attention was drawn to the carillons (wind -chimes) hanging from the ceiling. I felt an internal tension, an invisible magnet attracting me to go inside. As I entered, an unknown scent of burning incense sticks spread through the small store, there was also pleasant music playing. "You're in the right place," said the voice that brought me to the store. I knew it was him. I browsed around, looking at the merchandise. Suddenly I noticed a statue from a distance which pulled my attention. As I approached it, my heart began to beat louder, I knew I had found what I was looking for. Coming closer to look at the object that attracted, I saw that it was a small music box with a young light-haired boy standing on it. Holding with both of his hands was a golden heart, pressed tightly to his chest; he was also missing a face. I got goosebumps. The pedestal on which the boy stood was engraved with the text, "My heart will belong to you forever." Tears welled up in my eyes; it was the same words I uttered to Natalie on the day of his funeral. I knew I found the best gift I could give Natalie for Christmas. So quietly, without warning, I wrapped the box and put it under their tree next to the other presents. And a few days after Christmas, I returned to work.In Natalie's bedroom, my eye immediately caught her drawer chest; there stood the music box from me. It occurred to me that Natalie understood who the gift really came from. There were chills running through my whole body. A few days after that, she was returning home from work earlier than usual as I was just leaving. She nodded from one side to the other, hugged me, and said in a shaky voice, "When I found the present under the tree and unwrapped it, I knew immediately that it was my boy. I can't find words to thank you for everything you do for us." We stood in an embrace for a few moments. I was sorry that I couldn't do more for her. It wasn't in my power ...
(Names of the actual characters in the story were changed in order to protect their privacy and identity)
Source cover photo: pinterest.com
English 
Slovak