Five years ago tomorrow, as I sat at my computer around 7 am reading e-mail, my phone rang with the news I had expected. My mother had just died.
Why do we think this day will never come? That's absurd -- parents die before their children, that's the natural order.
Then, as is a well known part of my story, seven weeks later my father died. Zero to orphan. Not as common, to be sure, though I know people whose parents left even closer.
The upcoming anniversaries put me in a nostalgic mood for the past few days. What did these people, my parents, mean to me? How did they shape me? Where are they now?
And so on Sunday evening when I found myself gazing at a starry sky while waiting for the dogs to do their business before bed, I spoke out loud. "Mom and Dad, I know you were tired. I know you just wanted to be together."
I wasn't expecting any response, just wanted to say it. But a magical thing happened. Just as I spoke, I saw a shooting star cross the sky.
I swear this is true.
