Yellow Ribbons and a Thank-You Card

I discovered, upon returning from East Beach, that Aunt Tina had called me. I returned her call and left a lighthearted message: “Tag—you’re it.” I knew she was reaching out about the recent tragedy in her family, something a cousin had already told me about.

A couple of hours later, she called me back. “Kelley,” she said gently, “Ruby died. I know you didn’t know her, but I thought you should hear it from me.”

At some point during that conversation, something remarkable happened. In my mind’s eye, I suddenly saw transparent images of my deceased father and another aunt—Tanta Anna, both siblings of the aunt I was speaking with. And standing in front of them was my now-deceased cousin, Ruby.

Her presence glowed with a soft, angelic light—an unmistakable cherub-like warmth that radiated love and peace. They were all laughing together, standing as if posing for a photo. The image mirrored a real photograph of my aunt and father taken years ago at my grandfather’s house in Missouri, just after his funeral.

After hanging up with my aunt, I called the one cousin I’m close to on my father’s side of the family. She was the one who had first told me about Ruby’s passing. I reiterated the conversation I’d just had with our aunt, including the details of my dad, her mom, and our cousin appearing together in spirit—laughing. I also told her that Tanta Tina had agreed to have a reading.

That opened the door to a long, heartfelt conversation about our families growing up—details about her father’s and brother’s suicides, and bits of family history I hadn’t known, since I was never really around our cousins as a child.

At one point during our talk, I said, “Hmm, check that out. My dad’s here.” I saw him in my mind’s eye, arm raised with a conductor’s wand, like he was orchestrating this interaction of souls. I couldn’t recall ever seeing the physical form of my father as a sign of his presence. This was unusual.

Megan replied, “Well, you know about the fire poker,” and told me a story about Tanta Anna chasing my dad around as a kid—until she finally hit him over the head with it. I didn’t remember that story.

Somewhere in the conversation, I said, “Yeah, I wonder who else might show up during the reading for Tanta Tina. I wonder if it’ll just be Ruby, or if others will come too.” At that moment, I saw—lined up from left to right—Tanta Anna, my dad, and our grandparents. I thought, Interesting. I considered that maybe my aunt might want to hear from her parents, too. But then, the grandparents stepped back and faded away.

As I kept wondering who might actually show up, I saw my dad elbow his way to the front and say, with this determined energy, “No, I’m going!”

This lead to the image of Tanta Anna sitting at a patio table of her old condo by a lake in Denver, drink in hand, cigarette burning, smiling as she said, “Yeah, you go. No worries—you go.”

Megan then asked, “What about Uncle Dickie? Where is he?” I realized I hadn’t seen him. Sitting there in my Santa Barbara studio, I looked to the right of where I’d seen my dad in my mind’s eye, and there he was—off in the distance. “I’m busy” Uncle Dickie said, looking directly at me.

It caught me off guard, so I checked in again and asked what was going on. He said, “I’m dealing with own my shit.” I told this to Megan, who laughed and said that sounded exactly like him. She began reminiscing about Uncle Dickie and how he used to give her a hard time.

As Megan kept talking about our deceased uncle, the word VALEDICTORIAN suddenly appeared in my mind’s eye—big, clear letters across my inner screen. Since Megan knows so many details about the family that I don’t, I asked her, “What’s the deal with ‘valedictorian’? I’m seeing the word. Do we have any valedictorians in the family?”

She said she wasn’t sure. I asked if Uncle Dickie had ever gone to a graduation or something similar in the town where she grew up, but she couldn’t recall. Then she said, “You know, when you said ‘valedictorian,’ what came up for me was this guy from my high school who was the valedictorian. I ran into him years later when I was pregnant with Makaela—we had a great talk. He was super smart but came from a really chaotic background. He told me he became a Navy SEAL because he’d had no structure growing up and wanted discipline. Later, he dove into the Mississippi, broke his neck, and became a quadriplegic. A few years later, he drove his motorized wheelchair into a pool and drowned himself.”

Megan went on to describe his funeral and how she saw one of her old teachers there. She told the teacher, “You’re getting a divorce,” and the teacher said, “Yes—but how did you know? We haven’t told anyone.” I laughed and told her, “Because you have a gift—your intuition.” She sighed and said, “Yeah, but it hasn’t been working very well lately.”

Then, I suddenly heard a song and saw images forming. I told Megan, “Okay, I’m hearing a song and seeing some images. I’ll tell you the song first, then describe what I’m seeing.”

The song was Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree by Tony Orlando and Dawn. But instead of yellow ribbons around trees, I saw big, beautiful yellow bows tied around each letter in the word VALEDICTORIAN.

Megan paused and said, “At his funeral, they tied yellow ribbons around the trees.”

I said, “How could I possibly make that up? Clearly, this is connected—this is him.”

Then another image appeared in my mind’s eye: a small white thank-you card, maybe 3x4 inches, very simple—just a thin border and the words Thank You in plain type on the front. It opened and I watched a hand with a pen write: for being there for me.

Megan told me that when he was in San Diego, she used to call and check on him regularly.

It became clear that this beautiful soul was reaching out to her through me—with my dad orchestrating the connection—to express how deeply grateful he was for her compassion and emotional support in his life.

That’s Megan’s nature—she shows up for people, always. And she has a wonderful sense of humor, too. I feel profoundly grateful to have served as the messenger across the veil, honoring and validating both her kindness and his gratitude.

Note: Some names have been changed