When Chuck was in the hospital and still able to communicate verbally, we had a funny interaction. He kept leaning to the right, almost lying against the bed’s safety rail. I would help him move toward the left and reposition himself in the center of the bed. An hour or two later, we would repeat the process.

After a couple of days of this dance, I asked Chuck why he thought this kept happening. He looked at me seriously and said, “Because you are a magnet, and I am steel.” His hazel eyes were giving me that mischievous look of his. (I usually sat to his right to be out of the way of the nurses when they came in to take vitals or replace fluids.)

FASTFORWARD
October 17th was my first day back to work (half-day). I got into my SUV and started for school. No sooner had I rounded the corner than two lights flashed on my dashboard. Having no idea what they meant (I just got this vehicle in July), my already heavy heart dropped to the floor. What was I going to do? Usually, I would call Chuck at home to let him know what was going on, but instead, I was left to ponder my options in silence. Luckily, both lights went out before I finished my ten-minute drive to work. I sat in the parking lot, checked the owner’s manual, and then went into school.

I left school around 1:15 to go to a doctor’s appointment. Jumping into the car, I turned the radio on and froze. The radio was tuned to Sirius 16, The Blend, and “Magnet and Steel” by Walter Egan was playing! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I remember saying aloud, “Okay, Chuck. I guess you’re telling me you are still here with me, and I can do this.”

If it had not been for those pesky dashboard lights on my way to school, I would have been listening to a book on Audible on my drive in and would not have turned the radio on when I left school in the afternoon. Coincidence or sign from heaven? It was a sign, and I am looking forward to receiving many more from my best friend.