A Fistful of Dimes!

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I’ve been talking to my friends about these dimes I keep finding all over the house in places dimes shouldn’t be.  It’s so obvious it gets stupid sometimes…but it reminds me of the years immediately following my son’s death, I would find dimes in the strangest places…so many times I took notice.   I never heard of such blessings before; other than the cliché, Pennies From Heaven. but what’s with dimes, I wondered?

A few years into the dime gifts, I remembered something, and an awareness washed over me like a warm, loving blanket: Just one month before his death, on May 27th, I made a gift to my son for his 25th birthday. For some reason that birthday I wanted to make him a HOMEMADE cake, not an easy fix store-bought one anyone can buy.

Sidenote (squirrel) I like to share I am an amazing cook and even can my own stock, soups, stews, and even my girls’ dog food; but I know I have zero skills in the baking department (see the cake in question below). My son laughed so hard at my well-intentioned attempt but held it all back by covering his face with a birthday hat.

But wait, there was more to this homemade birthday cake: At the time I was formulating the type of cake I would make (choosing from a variety of boxed Betty Crocker cake mix), I remembered the delightful surprise of getting coins in my cakes as a child growing up. Well, either I got them or I saw a friend’s cake full of money once. I don’t remember precisely where the coins in a cake idea came from in my history, but I knew I wanted to put some DIMES in my son’s cake this year! And so I wrapped several dimes in wax paper and slipped them in his cake.  This memory / connection completely slipped my mind until years after Trevor’s death.

Trevor's dime cake

For some reason I was feeling very nostalgic and just wanted to give my son a homemade cake I had never given him before, with a surprise of dimes, representing my wish for peace, happiness, and abundance for his future, inside my homemade cake!

I know it’s taking a leap about the coincidence of dimes in his birthday cake and me finding a bunch of dimes after he passed. But keep reading…and these coinkydinks keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

So, that was a lovely sensation of understanding about my dime situation all those years ago. But now, here they are back. In the last few months I’ve again found a multitude of dimes, usually singularly. Today I was at a 7-11 store and my coin change for $5.12 worth of two beverages, was a fist full of dimes!  The clerk apologized repeatedly, as I starred with mouth wide open at what he had given me, him stating dimes was all he had for change.

Thanks to witness and photographer Arlana Tanner Sibelle, I have a photo of my dimes I am sharing here!

When I got home from our outing at the Penticton Angels and Fairies Expo (I can’t make this stuff up, because that is where I was all weekend), and pondered my blessing of all those dimes today in one fell swoop, another awareness washed over me, and I had to check my calendar!

Sure enough, today is June 14th: and is the last date I saw my son alive.  That day, June 14th, 2003, I was watching Trevor pack up his 1985 BMW (a wedding gift from his in-laws) with his final belongings from our house. Gary, Ximi, Trevor and I were chatting, hugging goodbye, chatting again…hugging again. In just two weeks Trevor would be starting his heavy duty mechanic career at International Trucking in Edmonton. Ximi was going to ‘nest’ their new apartment until the fall, when she would return to school to complete her Tourism Management Degree. Her dream was to open a club.

I was so happy for these young pups, who had struggled so hard to get to where they could finally begin a life together with new blessed beginnings.

After a final kiss and squeeze, the kids piled in the packed car. Slowly driving away, they both had their arms sticking out of the windows, waving goodbye. My husband and I hugged each other, walked up the steps back to our house, and something sharp shifted inside of me. I felt horrible, and no understanding as to why. I wasn’t one of those clingy mothers who would suffer severe empty nest syndrome; that’s not the way it felt.

The truth is, I knew. I didn’t know I knew until two weeks later, when, on June 28, 2003, my son was taken from us in a car accident. Today’s that anniversary of the last time I held my son. Today I got a fistful of dimes.

I never thought I would recover such a traumatic loss, of my only child.  But I have.  I now understand he was a gift for me, for a wonderful 25 years.  I cherish those memories, and believe I am who I am today because of his birth, and because of his death.

4 thoughts on “A Fistful of Dimes!

  1. Pingback: A Fistful of Dimes! | Mind Miracles Hypnotherapy

  2. Very sweet memories. I am sure that your precious boy is comforting you sending his love for you in a very special way that only you and he could understand. Bless you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I loved the story “A Fistful of Dimes” Here’s why dimes are so significant to me. My parents were much older than me, both were almost 46 years old when I was born. Years before I was born, my dad and mom were living in upstate NY with the first five of their eventual ten kids. I’m the youngest out of ten kids! There were no jobs, no money. The family wasn’t going to make it unless my dad found a job. So he decided he was going to go to NYC to find work and send money back home to my mom. He had a single dime in his pocket, but he figured if he could get a ride to NY, he could get food when he got to my aunt’s house. So, he started hitchhiking to the city and after walking for a few hours, a truck driver pulled over and offered him a ride. He said he had no money to buy my dad food, but he was going to stop for a bite to eat for himself. I understand those times were so hard, still makes me sad to think of my dad going hungry. Anyway, they pull over at this diner and walked inside together. My dad was going to see if the waitress would give him some water. When he walked in, there was a sign and it read, “soup, all you can eat, only ten cents.” My dad said he could not believe his eyes, and asked the waitress why. She told him that a crew of construction workers was scheduled to repair the highway near the diner. For some reason, they never showed up. The owner had made so much soup, he saw no other way to get rid of all of it than to offer an all you can eat soup for a dime, deal. That afternoon, my dad ate like a king. I have found dimes since his passing especially in times where I am in financial or emotional difficulties. He’s sending the message that God will always provide.

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