I was on the phone about to tell one of Corey's beloved friends about the dream I had--a dream that comforted me more than anything that has happened since June 7, 2013.

I go into the living room, look out the window as I am starting my dream-story and there in the bush is...a coonskin hat? I see the tail...Oh, there it is, a small, young raccoon, treed in the burning bush...behind the Be Gardiner sculpture I call The Man.

I go out, get near to it, it looks me straight in the face with black eyes that are pleading. I bring the dog into the house, get a plant stand, and position it under the raccoon so it can climb down.

But why did raccoon venture into my fenced-in yard, guarded by my alpha husky? The bird feeders are empty, so as not to tempt the bears, and there are tons of burning bushes in everyone else's open yard, so...this is a special visit. 

Back in the house, I go to spirit-animals.com and look up raccoon. 

"You are possibly being asked to let go of a situation, person, belief or habit. Conversely it could also mean that you should accept the gifts being offered to you right now by the universe.Raccoon can also be reminding you to leave no stone unturned in your quest for resolution with the current problem you are facing. Take the time to look at the whole picture – the seen and the unseen-- to find a solution."

Two hours later, raccoon is still there. Then it hits me...he needs a bridge. Regardless of the fact that the dog is now inside, raccoon is playing it safe. He must remain aloft, he cannot go down to the ground.

So I position a piece of plywood below him...and the next time I look out the window, he is gone.

The smallest act of kindness washes over me and instantly begins to seep in, nearly bringing me to tears. They are the kind of tears that arise when a person's gesture of kindness meets--and enters--an inner pain that is held oh-so-quietly.

The amount of pain over losing my daughter is wholly unspeakable. It can only be borne in prayer, in a deep and silent place.

Yesterday in the grocery store parking lot, a voice came from nowhere, asking, "Want me to take your cart for you?" It was a woman my age, smiling. "I always park down at the far end of the lot to get more exercise," she smiled. That tiny gesture from a stranger nearly brought me to tears. I am steeped, for the moment, in gratitude for compassion.

When a friend stops by to give me a hug or to say he is praying for us, when a stranger smiles at me in passing, when a business associate offers a kind gesture, when a friend comes over to help me tackle the chores that have piled up in my grieving period, what I drink from is not so much the content--specific words and deeds--but the inner gesture of caring and compassion.

True compassion is wordless. It is a felt sensing of a heart pouring forth. and it is healing.