Anderson-Khleif: Signs can be comforting when dealing with grief

I was looking out the left-side window of the airplane at the clouds on my way down to Puerto Rico for our eldest son's destination wedding. It was three weeks after the death of my husband, Baheej.

It was a bright and sunny day, blue sky. Then a series of fluffy white cloud formations appeared out the airplane window showing many, many experiences and meaningful images Baheej and I shared over a period of 44 years. And these cloud formations followed the plane in my view for over half an hour. I took out a sheet of paper and started writing down what I was seeing.

First, the shape of a great sea lion sitting on a big rock with female seals all around him, with his nose in the air - just like we saw them from a boat in Antarctica off the shore of Usuaha, Argentina, at the tip of South America on Terra del Fuego.

Then this morphed into an elephant with his trunk up in the air, triumphant, as we saw in India. Next, mountain goats climbing up the rocks in Thompson Canyon in Colorado where we spent many happy times when we were young.

These were not visions or imagination; they were very well-formed images like statues or sculptures. And many more, a long series like a motion picture or slideshow.

Next, lots of chickens and a rooster. Baheej loved chickens and roosters. He always wanted to have them here at the house in the backyard, but the village would not allow it.

Then Bastet the Egyptian Cat goddess, sitting in classic posture. Then another rooster, and then snow-covered trees like our old house in Spencer, Massachusetts. Then a Chinese Terra Cotta warrior, a model from Baheej's desk from a trip to China.

One of the first signs we noticed after Baheej's death was when our second eldest son and his family drove over from Michigan for Baheej's funeral. As they turned the corner to the house, the smell of Baheej's pipe smoke waffled out of the air vents. It was unmistakable, they said - he had been smoking that same Erinmore tobacco all their lives. A sign.

And I had a big sign one day at the local farmers market. I was there by myself, and approaching the next day "40 Days Prayer" at our church. I was wondering how I would stand Baheej's photo up on the prayer table. I went across the street to the great "Piece of Cake" bakery. When I went to pay, I found a large photo stand hanging from my shoulder purse! Just what I needed. I went back to the market and explained and paid them, and used it at church the next day.

I started keeping a journal to track these signs. I've had lots of them over the years.

After the death of a very dear one, people often get "signs." These signs are an event or happening that indicates the spirit is around you.

It's a form of communication that is very comforting in coping with grief as the years pass by. I still get them every once in a while.

Baheej and I had talked about this as we got older, that we'd find a way to communicate like the magician Houdini and his wife. We never made a specific plan, just had the idea. Baheej certainly did contact.

Signs are comforting because they are assurance that the spirit of your loved one is not lost, but there with you, at least from time to time.

I thought a lot about whether to tell anyone about this. I thought they might think this was strange or I was just imagining things.

But when I did start telling people, the usual response was, "Let me tell you what happened to me!"

Many people have had these experiences … a friend whose father appeared to her twice, once soon and once 19 years later; my own sister who saw our father sitting on the end of her bed assuring her everything would be all right, and she was not asleep; and a friend who heard her father's voice out in the kitchen, went there and no one was there.

Not everyone is open to these "signs." But you don't need to be religious or clairvoyant to experience them. They just happen and are nice.

Many people say things like "I'm sure he or she is looking down on you," and perhaps that's true.

I hope so.

• Susan Anderson-Khleif of Sleepy Hollow has a Ph.D. in family sociology from Harvard, taught at Wellesley College and is a retired Motorola executive. Contact her at sakhleif@comcast.net or see her blog longtermgrief.tumblr.com.