First, it was the flood in my apartment; a washer overflowed from the unit above me and then migrated downward to the suite below. I was out of my home for four days, a relatively short time. It could have been much worse, only the walls and ceilings of my bedroom and hallway were affected, soaking the insulation. Thankfully, there was no water under the floor.

I didn’t make too much of this, although leaving my relatively new home and staying in a hotel took a toll, I realized in retrospect.

I was promised the restoration would be done while I was away in Toronto in September, and that happened, although with the unexpected hurdles of an incompetent strata insurance agent and my contractor going dark due to a phone issue.

I’m glad to be home this time, unlike my return from Mexico in January, when Gibsons was the last place I wanted to be. The weather is sunny and cool; hopefully, we’ll be fortunate to have a beautiful October if the fall rains hold off.

After enjoying only two of nine nights in a lovely historic boutique hotel in Parkdale, I was locked out of my room with none of my belongings for twenty-four hours due to an unusual electronic lock issue. The complementary meals, wine and toothbrush I was given did not make up for the lockout.

The trip to Toronto was wonderful yet challenging. Toronto is not easy. Being with my Tibetan sister in Mississauga to the west of the city at the beginning and end of each trip is restorative. Although the shadow of Don’s absence hangs over our visits, but less so with time.

Meanwhile, back at home, I had managed to secure an identical computer to replace the one that kept crashing. When my techie began to download my data onto the new computer, he was plagued by crash messages; there was something wrong with Windows. On my return, I took the computer back to the place of purchase, and it worked perfectly. Multiple diagnostic tools could not reproduce the problems experienced by my tech guy!

Without a functioning computer, I could not jump back into my work on my grief memoir. Suddenly, I realized, in that knowing third-eye way, that I was not meant to be writing the book at this time. The work, although valuable in processing my experiences during Don’s illnesses and transition to spirit, was re-traumatizing me and keeping me in the past when my spirit and intention were to move into my new, solo life more and more. It keeps that life with Don alive. It keeps him alive.

Although working on the book is satisfying, the writing is hard work and painful. At least twice, I had considered ceasing. But I kept pushing ahead, feeling a need to complete it for myself and possibly to help others who had lost their soulmates.

Was I being locked out of my current life so that I could focus more on my burgeoning new life? Is the writing serving as a distraction?

What is to happen next? Perhaps it will be time to restart the book when I am farther along in my new, joyous life. Maybe in the spring after Mexico? Whatever transpires in the months to come, I didn’t come to this conclusion entirely by myself – I had to be hit over the head by the Universe, by circumstances.