The Brush of A Hand On My Shoulder

On Sunday Brian and I went out to eat at Copelands. Brian called ahead, but the place was hopping and we ended up taking a booth in the bar area so we wouldn't have to wait. Thinking back, I believe it was meant to be that way. Yes, I am a person who believes in fate... well at least the kind of fate that involves God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit also known as the Holy Trinity. I also believe that God us the gift of free will, but every once in awhile I think He likes to step in and give us a little push in the right direction. For all the skeptics out there, who is to say that God didn't lead you over to my blog right now so that perhaps you might rethink whatever philosophy you believe or don't believe in.
Now, getting back to Sunday... we sat down in a booth within the bar area where this young waiter was working, his name is Jeff. Jeff was really nice and gave us wonderful service, but something he did and will never even know the impact it had on me was brush my shoulder. At some point during the meal he stopped by the table and we asked for bread, I think, and as he turned away he brushed his hand across my left shoulder. All of the sudden I thought of you, Brian. I had this overwhelming sense that it was your hand that touched me and it was you who let me know you were near. As usual when I think of you, I immediately teared up and tried to keep myself from crying but I couldn't get over the fact that you were there right beside me when I least expected. I want to ask why? Why, when I can't even see it coming you somehow reach out to me? Or, why after countless nights of hoping I would see your smiling face in a dream it suddenly appears, but looking so somber? Why when I'm not expecting it? I know now that it doesn't matter how many times I ask out loud, while praying, in the midst of crying, it doesn't matter where, when or how many times I ask because I won't get an answer. I will never know and for me that's the worst part of losing you. I will never know how you died. I will never know why you died. I will never know God's reason for taking you from our family and I hate it.
All I can hope for is another chance encounter and I will spend the rest of my life hoping and waiting. Even if it comes from the brush of a hand on my shoulder by a complete stranger, I will always know it is you who is reaching out to me.