When my great Aunt Alys died, I cried. A lot. I cried every day for a long time. I cried from the day she died which was October 30 until sometime in January. One day in January I realized: I've been crying everyday for 3 months, better get it together or get some professional help. Around that same time, I began finding pennies. Everywhere. In the grocery store, at school, at home. Everywhere. I'd find 3 or 4 every week. I still find more than my fair share of pennies.
Aunt Alys had a thing for spare change. She hoarded it all over the house. Jars, boxes, various piggy banks for special classification of coins. Ok, she sounds a little crazy and maybe she was but I adored her. After she died, when we were cleaning out her house we found a jar with only pennies from 1971. The year I was born.
I'm not usually the type to believe in "beyond the grave" stuff. I believe those who have gone before us are with us in our hearts and memories. But I've come to think of these pennies as being sent from Aunt Alys. It's something she would have done when she was living. Given me a little something to brighten my day. I feel her presence strongly when I find pennies.
I've often wondered what Aunt Alys would think about my life choices this past year.
Last week I found 2 dollars in change in the University parking lot. Three times this week I've found pennies while on recess duty at school.
Pennies from heaven?