The Profound

There are times in our lives when something touches us profoundly. At the time, we are so deeply affected by it, we cannot speak of it or write about it. We can only savor the experience in a personal and very spiritual way.

I have written before about my significant other, Robert. My spiritual awareness only really began a little over a year ago, when Robert and I reconnected at a high school reunion, after first knowing each other as children nearly fifty years ago. That introduction to my spiritual awareness happened on our very first actual date.

Robert and I were visiting an historical town, Roscoe Village, which is just across the bridge from Coshocton, the Ohio town we were both raised in. It was hot outside and we had stopped in a little cafe for some raspberry iced tea. One of us noticed that up a few steps in the cafe was a sitting area with a huge overstuffed chair, a couch and coffee table. It looked so quaint and comfortable, a good place to sit, cuddle, and get to know even more about each other, although we had already decided that what we felt was indeed love.

We had been corresponding through emails and phone calls for awhile and both of us agreed that there was something magical going on, something with an energy of its own, drawing us together. We spent hours staring at each other, something I had never been comfortable with before.

Then we finished our tea, and I asked Robert what he would like to do next. His reply startled me. We had talked before about my first marriage to a local boy, Doug Kempf, and how he had been killed in Vietnam. (We had also discussed the two marriages after Doug and the ensuing divorces). Robert surprised me by saying he would like to go to the cemetery, to Doug's grave.

It was a beautiful day for a drive. I had forgotten how lovely his final resting place was, way up at the very top of a hill. As usual when I go there, I felt an overwhelming sadness but kept it to myself and, instead, talked to Doug silently through my heart. Just then, I thought I heard someone talking, just barely above a whisper. It was Robert talking very softly. Here is what I heard him say:

"Well Doug, we are here. I want to thank you for the love that you showed Cathy while you were with her and for your sacrifice so that I can be with her now. I know that I carry the torch of love that was passed from you to me, and I will honor the love that we both share for her. I know that you are somewhere and that some part of you knows and understands what I am saying. It is too bad that we never met, but maybe that is an agreement we all had before this lifetime began. Thank you again and please be assured, her heart is in good hands now. Goodbye."

It was profound, and deeply touching. I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what I heard, and I loved him all the more because of it. It was a quiet ride back to town and then I asked him to tell me more about what he believed, this awareness he spoke about. This is when I first knew. I didn't exactly know how I knew, I just knew I knew. It was almost like a remembrance from long, long ago. I was on my own journey now ... thank you, Robert, and thank you, Dinahh.

Namaste