Tonight I'm going to tell you a story ...
You have the choice...
to believe in luck or coincidence ...
or to believe that there is something bigger than us ...
I lived with my father about a year and a half ago. I had just separated and my days were heavy and difficult. Every morning my father would pick flowers for me and put them in a vase on my bedside table without saying anything more. It did me a lot of good to know that he was "there".
A small gesture that says it all.
As some of you already know, he passed away last August. When we emptied his house, I found, on the same bedside table, the last bouquet he had picked for me.
Intact and dried. (To see the photo).
I brought it home as a souvenir of him.
At my birthday last November, I missed him dearly and asked him to wish me happy birthday in his own way. Well, at about 20pm that day, I was on my way back to my hotel and pulled over at a "stop sign". At the same time, a lady crossing the street in front of me, with a bouquet of the same flowers in her hands.
I froze and really felt in my heart that it was a sign from him. To tell me he was "there".
It was his birthday last March 21 and when I woke up I had a thought for him and wished him happy birthday out loud, with a little sadness, I must admit.
That evening, I rented a cottage in the corner of Lac-Mégantic to spend the night there. And when I entered the chalet, there was a bouquet of these same flowers on the table.
So daddy ... I know you're still " leaves ».