What Do You Think Happens After We Die?

When I was around five years old, my grandfather took me to Kmart to buy me my first big girl bike. I remember taking my time, walking up and down the aisle, and finally choosing a purple bike with training wheels. It came with a white basket with pink and purple flowers.

On the way home, we had the radio on in the car. Remember that song I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson? It came on the radio when he started the car, and the highlight of the afternoon, besides a new bike just because, was us laughing and singing along.

I’m telling you this story because last week, I was in Walmart and bought a bike for Ainsley. She’s 3-½ now, coordinated, and tall enough for her first training wheel big-girl bike. She chose a pink one with Disney princesses and a matching helmet.

After I paid, I rolled the bike through the parking lot, loaded it into our SUV, got inside, and started the car. What song do you think started playing at that instant? That’s right - I Never Promised You A Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson. Granted, I always have the 70s on 7 radio station on, so there was a chance that song would come on, but there was also a bigger chance that any other song could have come on, too.

I’d like to think that wasn’t just a one-in-a-billion chance and a weirdass coincidence. I’d like to believe that, perhaps, from another realm, my grandfather was sending a message to let me know he enjoyed watching his great-great-granddaughter choose her first bike.

Yes, I know admitting you think dead loved ones are sending you messages through the radio sounds batshit crazy, but when you open your mind to the possibility and think about it, it’s not. The idea that the people who cared for us are still around watching and helping is so unbelievably comforting, I can’t hardly stand it. That right there is a whole lot of warm fuzzies.