And Not Just Any Turtle

We were exhausted after a long day of driving to a state park campsite and getting cranky as we bumped along the last dozen miles south on a partly paved but mostly gravel road. Deciding that we should be going north instead, we turned the van around and soon noticed a turtle making its way across the road.

I immediately said, “Oh, hi, Dad,” as if I had just entered a room and saw him sitting in his recliner. It was my first turtle sighting since Dad’s death a month ago, and I wondered what it might feel like when it happened. It felt perfectly natural.

Dad collected turtles (small replicas and trinkets, not real ones) for as long as I can remember. He liked them because they symbolized progress, even if very slow. “A turtle can only get ahead by sticking its neck out,” he’d tell us.

Back in the 70s, he was part of a CB radio group, where his handle (name) was Purple Turtle, a nod to his favorite color and animal; even decades after he hung up his CB mic, his moniker remained.

In 2004, on a scuba diving trip with Mom, he had the opportunity to hold a young sea turtle; I’m honestly surprised he didn’t try to adopt it. It’s no wonder that I can’t help but think of Dad whenever I see a turtle.

While I don’t believe our dearly departed are reincarnated as animals, I do imagine that animals and other symbols—such as favorite flowers and songs, gentle breezes and sunsets, ocean waves and dreams—can carry their spirits to us.

Mom passed away 18 years ago, and my sister and my youngest daughter tell me that they sense her presence whenever they see butterflies. I see Mom in different ways, especially in my dreams, though not as often as I’d like.

Come Visit Me in My Dreams

Shortly after her passing, Mom appeared in my dream, sitting on the edge of a fountain, wearing a flowing white dress. She smiled softly and told me, “Jesus is real. I’ve seen him.” Her words have stayed with me ever since.

Another time, she was at a beach party with the family, dressed in colorful clothing. She danced, chatted, and laughed with everyone, carrying on like the social butterfly she’d been in life.

In another dream, she sat next to me on a plane and encouraged me to take the beach vacation I’d always wanted to. The next morning, my family booked a summer trip to Hawaii. That story is featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul. I also have a story in Heartstrings From Heaven, where I believe Mom gave her approval of a tattoo. Though wide awake, it felt like a dream. It’s been a while, but I believe she’ll visit my dreams again someday, and hopefully, Dad, too.

Everything Will Be Okay

Maybe Dad will stick with turtles, though. And maybe I’ll only notice them when I am lost—whether wandering through life or wondering about life—and he wants to reassure me that everything will be okay. Like, on our way to camping.

Shortly after the turtle sighting, we pulled over to review our map app when a park ranger drove up next to the van. “Lost?” he asked us. There was no denying that we were. He then offered to have us follow him, and he would lead us to our site, five miles in the opposite direction of where we’d been heading.

Perhaps the turtle crossed the road to prompt us to slow down and take another look at our route. I’m not saying that happened, but I’m not denying it could have. After all, when we paused in our journey, the ranger found us and guided us to where we needed to be.

A few days later, as we drove away from the campground, we saw another (maybe the same?) turtle crossing the road. This time, we pulled over so I could get out of the van to take a picture. I wanted a vivid reminder that it really happened, and Dad’s spirit is always with me.

10-4, Purple Turtle.