REALITY?: Coincidence

It seems as we get older that we are more aware of coincidences occurring in our lives. Now it may seem that age has something to do with it as far as the connections we make, but I’m talking about time relativity of hours, days, or weeks at most.

The day my mother died, I was working in my shop with a brand new customer when I got a phone call to come down as soon as possible. I had to explain to the lady that I had to leave, and she was extremely understanding and willing to come back the next day to finish up. In taking her name, I was stunned to find it was Sally, a relatively uncommon name; I knew of only one other Sally, and then, of course, there was my mother whose Polish given name of Salomea was Anglicized to Sally.

At the nursing home, my sister and I sat for a couple hours, then I suggested she go back to work and I would stay a little longer. My mother only half-wakened for a few sips of cranberry juice—her favorite—the aide gave her, and I was about to leave when a nurse stopped by and offered me some orange juice. Fifteen minutes later, my mom died. The day, I remembered later, was Willie Nelson’s birthday as well.

Earlier this week I included in one of my posts a short fantasy statement about an aunt’s death to dramatize the notion of handling the big changes in life versus the niggling little ones. In the same entry I mention my Aunt Olga’s Funeral cake recipe which is a very real part of my life, and quite delicious by the way. The same day, my father-in-law told us that J’s aunt died.

Today I ran around quickly through the weblogs I read regularly, and one hit me right between the eyes. It touched on a topic that is deeply troubling, and one with which I am wrestling right now. I couldn’t leave a comment; I could only leave the site. I’ve very rarely felt so raw and exposed and in confusion, turned and ran.

There have been many other instances, especially lately, and I realize that I have become more aware of them now. Does coincidence occur in some design or fashion for some purpose by a greater mental force than our own? Or is it just a sixth sense of sorts to which our thoughts are tuned in to higher frequencies. It’s curious. It’s also scary.