“
In the year after Chris died, a friend organized a trip for the kids and me to use the time-share at Disney World in Florida. I felt exceptionally lonely the night we arrived in our rental car, exhausted from our flight. Getting our suitcases out, I mentioned something along the lines of “I wish we had Dad here.”
“Me, too,” said both of the kids.
“But he’s still with us,” I told them, forcing myself to sound as optimistic as possible. “He’s always here.”
It’s one thing to say that and another to feel it, and as we walked toward the building I didn’t feel that way at all. We went upstairs--our apartment was on the second floor--and went to the door.
A tiny frog was sitting on the door handle.
A frog, really? Talk about strange.
Anyone who knows the history of the SEALs will realize they trace their history to World War II combat divers: “frogmen” specially trained to infiltrate and scout enemy beaches before invasions (among other duties). They’re very proud of that heritage, and they still occasionally refer to themselves as frogmen or frogs. SEALs often feature frogs in various tattoos and other art related to the brotherhood. As a matter of fact, Chris had a frog skeleton tattoo as a tribute to fallen SEALs. (The term frogman is thought to derive from the gear the combat divers wore, as well as their ability to work both on land and at sea.)
But for some reason, I didn’t make the connection. I was just consumed by the weirdness--who finds a frog, even a tiny one, on a door handle?
The kids gathered round. Call me squeamish, but I didn’t want to touch it.
“Get it off, Bubba!” I said.
“No way.”
We hunted around and found a little tree branch on the grounds. I held it up to the doorknob, hoping it would hop on. It was reluctant at first, but finally it toddled over to the outside of the door jam. I left it to do whatever frogs do in the middle of the night. Inside the apartment, we got settled. I took out my cell phone and called my mom to say we’d arrived safely.
“There was one strange thing,” I told her. “There was a frog on the door handle when we arrived.”
“A…frog?”
“Yes, it’s like a jungle down here, so hot and humid.”
“A frog?”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t think there’s anything interesting about that?”
“Oh my God,” I said, suddenly realizing the connection.
I know, I know: just a bizarre coincidence.
Probably.
I did sleep really well that night.
The next morning I woke up before the kids and went into the living room. I could have sworn Chris was sitting on the couch waiting for me when I came out.
I can’t keep seeing you everywhere.
Maybe I’m crazy.
I’m sorry. It’s too painful.
I went and made myself a cup of coffee. I didn’t see him anymore that week.
”
”