They buried my best friend on September 16, 2001, a day I’ll always remember. This personal tragedy fell into my lap the same week the terrorists destroyed the lives of many Americans on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Not only was I going through turmoil for my country, but I was grieving also for my friend, who will never see America, the land of the free and the brave, again.The funeral was painful, as funerals often are; but the real pain lay in the story of my miracle rock, which I kept pressed against my bosom in the late-afternoon sun. I stood, clutching it in my sweaty palm, tears dripping from my swollen eyes. It was my savior that day, as security blankets often are.I am a writer and I write to get published, as any author wannabe will tell you. Writing is my forte, my dream, my conquest. No one in the world knew how strong my drive was more than a beautiful man named Mark. With his encouragement and foresight, he prodded me along with a vengeance, believing in me all the while.He was a quiet man, full of beauty and wisdom. An angel in disguise, he was. I was waiting on tables, as my writing was at a standstill and bills were piling up. I understood the phrase “starving writer” first-hand. The restaurant was unusually quiet that night, and patrons coming through the door were greatly appreciated and welcomed warmly.I seated a man accompanied by his son. I took their order and noticed what a warm smile he wore on his weathered face. Having a boyfriend at the time, I did not talk much. As I took his order, I noticed the camaraderie he and his son shared as they played Hangman on bits of torn napkins. I took drinks to them, he cordially thanked me and I carried on my business as usual.I went home to my boyfriend, never giving the stranger with the kind smile another thought. A few nights later, he came into the restaurant alone and gazed at me a little differently this time. Remembering the generous tip he had left me the last time, I gave him the best service I could.We struck up a conversation, exchanging tales of our sons, the loves of our lives. As it turned out, he had been through some rough times, with his ex-wife trying to keep his son away from him. As he talked, I saw pain behind his sea-blue eyes. However, he had seen the pain in mine first.I felt an urge to talk to this man, never quite understanding the source of this impulse. I felt comfortable opening up to him and told him about my problems with my boyfriend. I told him I was trying to work things out, but I guess my sagging enthusiasm showed.He offered me his guidance. I savored his words as if it were my soul talking to me. There was a strange bond between this stranger and I, a bond that crossed barriers of time. It was a connection of kindred spirits in a time of despair. I felt like a weight had been lifted off me.My boyfriend had no idea I was conversing with this stranger. It was hard for me not to acknowledge the strong pull I had with this man, and I found myself confused about the feelings that were raging inside of me. I saw the stranger again a week later. It seemed he could not resist the strong pull himself. I started telling him about my aspirations to become a professional writer. He read my articles and was deeply impressed.“These need to be published,” he would say.I saw him a few times after that, pushing manuscripts in front of his nose for his careful scrutiny. We laughed, we talked, we cried together. I found I could tell him anything, and he could do likewise.I had written children’s stories when I was a young mother, and I told him to read them for me. I remember him sitting at table 13 concentrating on every word. He looked up at me proudly. I knew without him saying a word that my time had come.I sent off No More Gooseberry Pie! to an e-publisher, and a month later there was a contract in the mail.We celebrated spiritually. As we were just friends, albeit very close friends by that time, I felt comfortable in accepting his invitation to his house tucked in the pines. I knew this was wrong, but my inner voice was telling me otherwise.He cooked dinner for me and we shared deep conversations under the glow of the candlelight. We talked about goals in life, our children and our respective futures. We talked about journeys we had traveled and journeys yet to take. We talked about dreams we lost and dreams we had yet to find.We continued our conversations for a year until our friendship was interrupted. My boyfriend found our relationship to be too close and he forbade me to ever see him again. I understood his demands and questioned myself if I were doing the right thing by continuing to see this man; even though in my heart, I knew it was right.Because I felt that this wasn’t fair to either man, I decided that I had to make a decision. That decision was to do what was right by society’s standards and tell my twin soul that I couldn’t see him anymore. It broke my heart; but little did I know, it would break his permanently.I made one last visit to him. The look on my face told him what he dreaded to hear. He did not cry and tried to act brave, but he knew this would be the last visit I would ever make to him. His face took on a much older expression and I knew my bad news took every bit of life from him. This was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life, but I felt that it was best for all involved. I did not want to hurt him anymore, even though the pain in my own heart was unbearable. Before I turned to leave, he pressed an object into my hand. I opened my palm and saw that it was a blue rock with the inscription, “Miracles.” I looked at him, with tears in his eyes, and knew the hidden meaning in this gift. It would take nothing short of a miracle for us to be together. I looked at him, unable to speak. I put the rock in my purse and went home. The days passed, and I couldn’t get my mind off my friend, my mentor. I couldn’t understand the concept of loving only one person. They say a soul mate doesn’t have to be your boyfriend or your husband. A soul mate is one who connects with you on an astral plane. Perhaps it is someone you knew from another life. Perhaps it is your life partner, transcending the ages.Knowing that, I also knew that the present man in my life was meant to be. He was my companion soul mate and had come into my life for a reason. He was part of my life’s journey and I knew that I would come to know the meaning of his presence as I explored my past, present and future with him. I decided to work things out and continue my relationship with him, thinking that this was for the best.A couple weeks later, I learned my twin soul had died. They found him on September 14, lying in his son’s room. Perhaps this is where he wanted to be when he took his last breath. The coroner’s report stated that he had an enlarged heart. I could have told them he had a heart the size of Manhattan. I stood at the funeral with tears on my face as I watched his brave son sitting next to his mother and grandparents beside the coffin of my best friend. He wore tears of pain, as did most on that tearful day. I leaned over and told him to give me a hug. I whispered in his ear, “Your father loved you, don’t ever forget that.” He nodded like he understood.I leaned down to his stepmother, whom he often talked about fondly. I introduced myself. I told her I was a writer, and that her step-son was my best friend. She smiled at me and said that he had said good things about me. I will never forget it. Feeling at first like an outsider, I started to sense a common bond, as if I were one of them. We were all there together, grieving for my friend who would never experience the love of his family and friends again.That rock that says “Miracles” took on a new meaning that day. As I stood by Mark’s casket with tears streaming down my face, I knew. Mark was in Heaven playing with the angels now, but he would always be there for me. He was my miracle, and I knew he would guide me the rest of my earthbound days.My Miracle rock sits beside me every day, wrapped in the tearstained tissue I used at the funeral. Whenever I get upset, all I have to do is hold it in my palm; and suddenly, I am calm. Mark had that effect on me—then and now.I know I will see my friend one day. The miracle then will be the everlasting love of our Savior, who put him in my life for eternity.* * * * *
