This is a woman. She is slim and her motions are very fluid, like a dancer. She’s wearing a very pretty, flattering dress that is sleeveless/wide straps with a bodice that is fitted and a skirt that flares out at her waist. It’s white.
Bouncy (but not curly) brown hair, medium length. Red lip. She has long delicate fingers and well manicured nails, but they are not painted.
She has a special ring on her left hand – not necessarily a wedding ring or engagement ring. More like a family heirloom or special gift. She also has a necklace that is missing. She’s touching the spot between her clavicle to show me it’s not there. Even the movements of her hands are fluid and graceful.
She is spinning in a tutu with her hair pulled into a bun. She stops perfects, front foot turned out and back hitting it’s mark to stop the turn.
She’s graceful, but I’m also hearing “Grace” as a possible name.
We’re walking down a hallway in a hours. It’s a little dark because all of the doors are closed except the last one on the right. It’s a beautiful room full of light, decorated in pinks with blue accents. I see big pink flowers.
It’s well-organized. There is a hand-made afghan at the foot of the bed. Crocheted or knitted.
There is a small dish on the vanity and there IS an engagement ring in there. She’s waffling. Can’t decide if it’s a good idea to marry this person. She’s messing with the ring — fingering it while she things, trying it on, etc. Then she puts it back in the dish.
The closet is full of fancy dresses and beautiful things.
“I just wanted to reach out to say ‘hi’. I’m still around. I know I’m not as active anymore, but I fear it was bothering you — keeping you from healing from my loss. But I am still there. I see the fridge cleanouts, pillow fluffing (thanks for that), I hear the airing of grievances — I’m sorry for the times I hurt you. And for leaving too soon. I know that’s what it feel like to you. One day you will see the plan and it will all make sense. But now, I know it just hurts. Give Gracie a big hug from me. Thank you for telling her about me and keeping my memory alive. I’ll see you soon (but not too soon). Love you.
Sign: roaches (I kid you not. I cringed just writing that down when they showed me.)