A Sign From the Sky

The day my brother died, something happened that amazed all of us.

When the funeral home arrived, one of the men quietly pointed toward the front yard.

There, lying in the grass, was a fish.

Not near a lake.

Not near a pond.

Not anywhere it should have been.

Just there.

As though it had fallen from the sky.

I called my dad and my brother-in-law over.

The three of us stood there, staring at it.

None of us could explain it.

Standing there beside my brother's body, the image settled into my heart.

His body was still here.

He wasn't.

For us, the fish became more than an unusual sight.

It became a moment.

A quiet reminder that there are experiences we cannot always explain, only witness.

The fish didn't belong in our front yard.

And in that moment, it felt as though my brother no longer belonged here either.

For me, the fish became a reminder that, like my brother, it no longer belonged in this place.

It had come from somewhere else.

My brother had gone somewhere else.

Some will search for a natural explanation.

Others will see coincidence.

I understand both.

But for me, that fish will always mark the moment I realized my brother had already crossed into another place.

His body was still here.

He wasn't.