The Three Kings

Book 1, Chapter 3 - "A Jolly Good Fellow!"

"I hear a voice calling, Calling out for me
These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won't take the easy road"
FIRST AID KIT

***
An hour later we were talking about my lost son.
I couldn’t believe I was even thinking it but my sister led us there.

****
A few weeks earlier, Christine was the one that had found Olympia, “the Messenger.” She was led to a Brain Gym instructor from her Yoga teacher.

I had never heard of a “Brain Gym Instructor” and certainly never thought of a “messenger” seriously. Here was how Christine explained it to me:

“Brain Gym is a form of physical meditation. You do certain exercises to activate your brain and it helps you to free your mind. Learners carrying out specific Brain Gym movements prior to a learning activity can improve stability, mobility, and/or sensorimotor coordination. In turn, these motor skills support ease of learning. The 26 Brain Gym activities are said to foster eye teaming, hand-eye coordination, and whole-body flexibility, and so activate the brain for optimal storage and retrieval of information.”

Of course, Brain Gym concept was designed for learning disabilities but with the depression that Christine was experiencing, I was for her to try any new ways to combat the sadness of the mind.

The Brain Gym instructor spoke of Mediums. Christine never mentioned any of it to me until she found an ad for the mysterious woman in “Awakening.”

“Awakening” is a magazine for and about those who are in communication or in belief of the “other side.” Oh I thought it was ridiculous at first.

How she had found that magazine to begin with was still a puzzle to me.

---
“I am the Messenger!” the ad claimed. I suppose “She considered herself as a channel, a conduit” between “our world” and the "other side" where past, present and future are somehow mixed together.

That simple 4 X 4 print ad first drew Christine and then I the “non-believer” to this beautiful house in Newport Beach, where one could hear the waves of the Pacific Ocean crushing the beach and smell the mist.

One could but not us!

“I am Isaac,” Olympia declared.

That was our lost son’s name.

“Did you tell her his name?” I asked Christine with my inquisitive eyes.

“No I didn’t,” Christine responded similarly.

“He is pleased to see the two of you here.”
And then pause.

“He knows you have suffered a great deal but he wants you to know that he is in a good place.”

That’s rubbish I thought. Good place!

A ten-year-old is killed, drowning in the ocean, without achieving any of his dreams and potentials and he is in a good place.

If this woman is putting a show for us, I will show her one, I thought angrily.
Then I paused in my anger.

How did she find out the name?

It is not like we are celebrities and our tragedy plastered the news. As far as I knew, Christine simply had given Olympia our first names and the fact that we had lost a child. Not the age and not the sex. Nothing more, nothing less!

“It is odd. Let me see what he is doing and trying to say.
He is pointing to his left leg, right below the ankle.”
I began to focus on the messenger’s lips. What was her game now?

”He shows me a spot,” declared Olympia.
My heart began to pound. I looked quickly at Christine begging her to tell me what else she had told “the messenger.” Christine waved her head as “I never told her about THAT!”

THAT was Isaac’s birthmarks.

“It is a birthmark of sort. No, there are a few marks.”

“He is pointing to the sky. As if he is pointing to an object there.
The Sun, the Planets, the Moon, the Star.”

Olympia had never met us, had no photos of Isaac, and therefore should not have known about the birthmarks.

Isaac’s four molds, colored in black and blue, formed the shape of a star.

“What is he doing now?” I asked impatiently.

“He is singing a song.”
“I can’t quite get the words… hold on.”

“I think I got it.”
“OK, here we go, … He is showing a J…smiling, happy…”
…Jolly...good …” Olympia recited.

“Now an F”

“…Friend a fellow…ah… and he is a jolly fellow…” She said.

I finished the tune for her as tears found their ways down my face drawing a line that crumbled disbelief and engraved an emotion so unfamiliar but yet so powerful.

I was scared. Terrified. Didn’t know where the fear came from but it was running through my body as blood flows in veins. It had paralyzed me yet the desire to hear more, to believe that some of what I was hearing was tangible, perhaps factual and true, overwhelmed the fear.

Christine had joined me crying but in her case I couldn’t tell if it were the tears of pain or joy. She looked almost relived to be able to connect.

Isaac was there. I could feel him. I needed to feel him. I wanted to see him, smell him, touch him and hug him.

Was I going crazy or turning into a believer?
“He is a jolly good fellow…” was the tune I used to sing for him before putting him to bed when he was a child.

https://www.myfreshperspectives.com/posts/the-three-kings-book-1-chapter-4-dont-paint-it-black