Night Visitations, Butterflies on Goldenrod, and French Vegetable Soup

Six years ago tomorrow, my stepson, Darryl, died at age 46 from a massive heart attack. The medical examiner said Darryl had the arteries of a 90 year old man.  There is a small room in my brain that runs a continuous slide show of that awful day, what was, what might have been.

I have never been one to believe accounts of the visitations of angels or messages from loved ones who have passed on. But two nights ago, something unusual happened to me between midnight and dawn. I had the sensation of being all at right angles, of being lightly pinned as if by a spider web. I did not struggle to move, only struggled to pay keen attention. There it was. A voice in my ear. Darryl’s. He said, “Hey Beth, thanks for loving my Dad.”

That was it. The voice was gone. I was released from that twilight state and fully awake. I lay there, alert, wondering what had just happened.

And then last night, something else unusual. Again, in that time several hours before dawn. I think I was in a light sleep when I began to hear singing. It was a chorus, men and women, singing a very pleasant, repetitive melody. It gradually got louder until I could make out the words. “And you’ll go on and on.” That’s it. For a few moments, I felt enveloped in the cloud of sound. It was fantastic. Then the sound gradually moved beyond me, and grew fainter until I could no longer hear it.

This morning, my analytical brain feels teased.

Yesterday was a grand day for walking in the October woods here at Longleaf Preserve. This butterfly obliged me by posing on a spray of goldenrod long enough that I could snap a picture.

And the cool air lends itself to the making of soup. This one, another Mustards Grill cookbook recipe, is French Vegetable Soup with Pistou, a savory concoction of thyme-infused broth, carrots, leeks, onion, cabbage, and lean ham. The pistou topping is made from basil, garlic, parmesan and olive oil. Tastes heavenly. Warning: may stimulate dreams and visions.

6 thoughts on “Night Visitations, Butterflies on Goldenrod, and French Vegetable Soup

  1. I was going to ask you what you had for supper or dessert but you beat me to it. I have the world’s dullest dreams . . . not that I’m complaining.


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