Tag: Godwinks

“Still Showing Up”

Finding Signs of Love in the Milestones, Memories and Moments That Matter Most

My absence from this blog over the past couple months hasn’t been because I had nothing to say. It’s been because of pure MAYhem: three kids deep in high school sports, one graduating with all the awards nights, events, commencement and graduation party prep that comes with it, and another moving home from college for the summer.

And that’s just half the story. Emotionally, it’s been a full-on roller coaster, made even more bittersweet by the fact that my late husband, Matt, hasn’t been here for any of these once-in-a-lifetime moments: our daughters Emma and Maddie sharing the field for Emma’s final soccer season, our son Tynan pitching a perfect game, Emma’s honors ceremony and graduation, and our son Brendan heading to the Big 10 Tournament as a student manager with Michigan State University’s baseball team.

Don’t get me wrong, we have been celebrating all of these milestones with joy. Matt certainly wouldn’t want us throwing a pity party that he wasn’t here to share in them with us. And I think Emma said it best on the day of her graduation, a day that Matt, as her biggest cheerleader, would have relished. She was about to put on her cap and gown when I asked her if she wanted to wear something—maybe the gold necklace Matt gave her the Christmas before he passed—so she could have a piece of him with her as she graduated. She responded matter-of-factly, “Mom. . .Matt is always with me.”

Wise words from our newest high school graduate. Even though, at times, it doesn’t feel like enough to have Matt with us only in spirit, she’s absolutely right.

He was most definitely with us on her senior night for soccer, as the five us walked across the field with Emma’s name and accolades being announced. Just two years ago, Matt was on the other side of that microphone, and I can just hear him proudly declaring that a “pack of huskies” was about to come onto the field. And even after Emma’s last high school game—a heartbreaking, season-ending loss to their rivals—I know, though he wasn’t there to give Emma and Maddie one of his big bear hugs, they felt Matt’s presence.

The same was true when Ty pitched a perfect game a few weeks ago, toward the end of his junior baseball season. Just thinking about this makes me emotional on so many levels. Matt excelled on the baseball field growing up and was a star pitcher, so there was no doubt that one of the thrills of his life was coaching Ty for all those years—from little league through the travel baseball season the year before he died. Matt spent countless hours playing catch with Ty, teaching him different pitches and encouraging him to “outthink” the batter. I know without a doubt that Matt was looking down from heaven as Ty pitched that perfect game, saying “atta baby” and grinning from ear to ear.

Similarly, I know Matt has been smiling down on our oldest, Brendan, a sophomore at MSU, since he snagged a position earlier this year as a student manager for the baseball team. He and Matt also bonded over baseball, and Matt would’ve been thrilled to see him get this opportunity. As a first-year manager, Brendan hasn’t been able to travel with the team much, but he lucked out when the Spartans qualified in the 11th hour to the Big 10 Tournament in Omaha, Neb., and he was tapped to go. Omaha held meaning from the start because, after Matt was diagnosed three years ago, he, Ty and Brendan made a bucket-list trip there for the College World Series. I know Brendan felt Matt’s presence the second he got there.

But there was more. Matt always referred to Brendan as “The Brendan,” so in turn, Brendan would always call him “The Matt.” In the ultimate Godwink, Brendan called me when he got to Omaha, and said, “You’ll never believe the name of the restaurant next to our hotel. It’s called The Matt!” Talk about having a piece of Matt there with him.

As the saying goes, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Easier said than done, of course. Some days, the missing feels bigger than the smiling. But then there are moments like these—on soccer fields, pitcher’s mounds, graduation stages and even outside a restaurant in Omaha—that remind us Matt isn’t really missing them. He’s woven into them. In the stories we tell, the signs we catch, the words our kids say without even realizing how much wisdom they carry. And while I’ll always wish he were here in person, I’m learning to smile because he happened. And because, in so many beautiful ways, he still does.

“Sign, Sign … Everywhere a Sign”

What to make of Godwinks, 11:11 and Other Signs from Lost Loved Ones

What’s your sign? By this, I don’t mean anything about your horoscope or astrological sign. Or even the song (which is now stuck in my head, by the way). I’m talking about the signs you get from people you love that have passed away. Just little moments where they show up to brighten your day and remind you that they’re still there watching over you. 

I realize that not everyone believes in this sort of thing. Yet for me and some of my friends and family, these signs — that can come in various forms — serve as comforting and reassuring messages from above. 

The key is that you have to look for them. 

 
Just a Godwink and Smile 

Years ago, I was introduced to the concept of “Godwinks” when my dear friend Shelley gifted me the book When God Winks: How the Power of Coincidence Guides Your Life by Squire Rushnell.  

So, what exactly is a Godwink? Defined as “a seemingly coincidental event that can be interpreted as a sign of divine intervention,” a Godwink is a quirky “coincidence” that feels just a bit too on-the-nose to be random—like the universe is giving you a little nudge or a cosmic fist bump. These aren’t just chance happenings. They’re signs that someone is looking out for you, guiding you or just dropping by to brighten your day. 

Back when I first got the book, I loved reading the stories of people experiencing Godwinks, and I would be sure to let Shelley and other friends and family who knew about the Godwink theory whenever so-called “coincidences” happened in my life. But until I experienced true loss, I never fully recognized the sense of peace Godwinks can bring. 

In the context of grief, Godwinks take on a whole new meaning. They’re those oddly perfect moments — maybe a favorite song playing at just the right time or spotting a penny or a dime when you need encouragement — that make you stop and wonder if a loved one is saying, “Hey, I’m still here!” For me, these little winks from above are like spiritual comfort food: warm, reassuring and a gentle reminder that love never really leaves us. 

After Matt passed away, I started noticing the signs he was sending, and they’ve given me so much comfort. The very first one happened on the day of his funeral. 

Our oldest son Brendan’s varsity baseball team had a big district semi-final that day. After the service and luncheon, he went straight to the game, where his team was already trailing. But as soon as he arrived, things shifted. The team rallied and pulled off a wild 8-2 win in extra innings! 

Later that day was the district final against a team ranked #2 in the state. I slipped away from the post-funeral gathering at our house to catch the game with close friends and family. No one expected us to win, but somehow, we did—3-0! As Brendan held up the District Championship trophy, he looked up and gave a little nod, as if to say, “Thanks, Matt.” It certainly felt like he’d had a hand in this unlikely victory. 

 
Dig These Digits 

Truth be told, I’ve always been more into words than numbers, but it’s been hard for me to ignore the number 17 as it was prominent in my relationship with Matt. We met on 1.7.17, got engaged on June 17, 2018, and decided to get married on the 4th of July that same year (which turned out to be … you guessed it, 17 days after our engagement!)  

In numerology, the number 17 is viewed as a symbol of new beginnings and divine power. When I first recognized these correlations between the number 17 and our relationship, it made total sense to me. We truly were each other’s “new beginning,” having met after our respective divorces and creating our blended family.  

I like to think that the “divine power” part of the definition pertains not only to the importance of faith in our relationship, but now in Matt giving us signs through the number 17 that he’s still with us.  

A couple of examples occurred last summer, just months after Matt’s death. Our daughter Emma (now 17) and I went on a trip to Boston and Nantucket as a belated birthday gift. As we started our vacation, I was feeling strong reminders of Matt (especially since he and I had just visited Boston the previous Labor Day).  

My heart felt heavy as we left Boston and made our way to the ferry that would take us to Nantucket. Once we got there, the dock porters directed us to stow our luggage in a bin that was not in numbered order like the rest … it, of course, had the number 17 emblazoned upon it. Once we got to the island, I pulled out our Airbnb reservation information, and sure enough, our address was 17 Washington Street. Sure, these could just be considered simple coincidences, but during an especially emotional time, these signs gave me comfort that Matt was there, helping guide us on our trip. 

The numbers 11:11 (generally seen on a clock or a receipt) are another sign recognized by many as a message from angels. It’s a reminder to stay positive and trust in God’s plan—sentiments that Matt and I often spoke to each other. 

I really knew nothing about the concept of 11:11 until Matt passed and other widows mentioned it to me. From that point on, I started seeing it pretty frequently—particularly at times when I needed extra encouragement or a nudge from Matt that he had my back.  

Our oldest son, Brendan, and I had a major 11:11 occurrence this past Father’s Day. Of course Matt was top of mind that day, and we were all really missing him. We had gone golfing, and on the way home Brendan was giving me this smile and asked, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?”—something Matt often did when he not-so-slyly hinted for us to get ice cream. I, of course obliged, and we both stood there with our jaws on the ground when the cashier at Frosty Boy told us our bill came to $11.11. Brendan didn’t miss a beat and wished Matt a “Happy Father’s Day” right there. 

For the birds? 

Another sign that can hold symbolic meaning — particularly in the form of hope, love and guidance from loved ones who have passed away — is a cardinal.  In various cultures, these beautiful, red birds are seen as messengers from the spirit world, offering comfort, reassurance and a sense of connection to those who have departed.  

On the same Nantucket trip last summer, I was having a particularly tough day, missing Matt. I was holding back tears as Emma and I boarded a shuttle to another part of the island. First, I saw a “penny from heaven” sitting directly on my seat, and then right as we got off the bus, a beautiful cardinal was waiting to greet us in one of Nantucket’s famous hydrangea bushes.  

This spring and summer we’ve also had a regular cardinal visitor on our back deck. It’s uncanny the way this bird keeps showing up, especially when I’m having a rough day and missing Matt. While its constant presence has been powerful itself, the cardinal almost always perches on the stand that holds a personalized wind chime with Matt’s name on it and a special quote that a family friend gave us when he passed. 

Not everyone believes in Godwinks or special numbers, but for me these “signs from above” are comforting reminders that our loved ones haven’t left us, and they will always be in our minds and hearts as we move forward.