Texts me. Appointment with Flavio at 09:15 – 09:30. Won’t be here on time.
“Have him wait,” he says.
Flavio earlier than boss expected.
Flips through magazine. Asks a few questions about paper, magazine and boss.
Mentions seminar he did on suicide several weeks ago.
Asks if I attended. I did not.
I wonder why he’d bring that up. Not out loud, in my head.
I tell him I have more than a passing interest in suicide. My son attempted several years ago, I share.
He talks about chaos. My son, he says, sees his life as chaos.
He operates best from up here, he says, as he motions with one arm, above his head.
He must live down here in the chaos, he says, his other arm outstretched, beside his chair.
“Tell him to keep his sights on what is above, not the chaos below,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“I will,” I say, grateful that someone has explained my son’s mindset in a way that I’ve never heard before. And it sounds right on.
Who is this Favio person, I wonder?
There is a moment of silence, and then he says: “You, too.”
He says, “You, too. Tell yourself the same thing.”
Is my mouth hanging open? I feel like it’s hanging open.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He explains that I, too, have been living in the chaos. Decisions were made because I had free will. We all have free will. My consequences have been difficult, he says.
“Uh huh,” I say. “True.”
I am not fearful. I’m curious.
He explains that he’s a therapist and intuitive.
“Aw, well, that makes sense,” I say.
He says that he could have stayed in his car and waited for twenty minutes until the boss came in. He was, after all, early. Also, boss had texted him to say he’d be late. He knew but came in, anyway.
“I was led to come in,” he said. “By you!”
My energy invited him to come in.
An invitation – good title for blog post, I think.
“Because, I’m soooo going to write about this,” I tell him.
Boss comes in. Says he has to do one thing before they can begin their meeting.
“Good,” Flavio says. He has something more to say to me, he tells him.
He turns to me and says, “Don’t give up on your son finding happiness. Picture him successful, pain-free and happy. Put that energy out there.”
I say, “Thank you. I think you were meant to come in and talk to me. You’ve started my day out in a fabulous way!”
“Don’t give up on him,” he says, again.
“I won’t,” I say.
“He has free will but so do you,” he tells me. “It’s all about choices. Choose to lift him up.”
“It’s not the time for your son to die,” he says, finally.
It’s only 6:30am where my son lives. Too early to call. But I can send some good juju, energy and prayers his way.
I throw some out to my daughters, too. And my grandson, and his dad. And my parents. My husband, my sister and her family. Everyone I love.
And then I remember to extend some of this precious commodity to myself, too.
It was that kind of day.
Because of Flavio.