On the drive home from the hospital after my cancer surgery, I felt the chapter of my past life closing behind me. I sensed that soon, I would step through a new door, venturing into uncharted territory. The life I knew before my diagnosis and surgery felt distant, almost disconnected from who I had become. My drive and passion for running my temporary legal business had faded, but with employees depending on me, I couldn’t leave everything behind overnight.

My past seemed like a puzzle I no longer recognized, and the future held even more uncertainty. Although my intuition guided me toward the next phase, I wasn’t ready to fully embrace the unknown.

Dennis was eager for us to get back to our routine. We had established a rhythm that worked well for years, and he hoped I could return to my business soon, especially since it had been profitable then. I reached out to a cancer therapist recommended by the hospital, and we spent hours discussing my past and what lay ahead. The more we talked, the clearer it became that money no longer held the same significance for me. Sensing my growing detachment toward wealth, Dennis quickly reminded me we had a daughter to raise and responsibilities to consider.

One morning at breakfast, Dennis leaned across the table, met my gaze, and asked, ‘What about Wendy? Don’t you want to earn money for her?’

It was his final attempt to pull me back into the life I once lived, which revolved around earning a substantial income for both of us.

And I felt myself being drawn in.

“Of course, I want Wendy to have a comfortable life,” I replied. “But what about my life, or what’s left of it? I was told it would take five years before I could be in full remission, and cancer could come back at any moment.”

“Doré, what exactly are you thinking? Are you crazy? What the hell are you thinking? You’ve worked so hard to build your dream business, and now you’re considering stepping away because of a dream you had while in the hospital? I just don’t want to see you get caught up in something that might not be grounded in reality. This spiritual crap is nonsense.”

I walked along the beach the next day and settled on one of my favorite benches. Dennis’s words from the day before echoed in my mind, making me question if he was right or if I was losing my grip. We had a beautiful home and a thriving business, yet I was considering leaving it all behind. As I drifted deeper into thought, my eyes caught movement down the beach path. About 75 feet away, I saw an elderly man.

His figure seemed to glow with vivid shades of blue, green, and gold. As he drew closer, I noticed his silver hair and impeccable attire. I realized he was watching me just as I watched him, his gaze unwavering and locked on mine. Though I was confident we’d never met, something about the colors around him felt strangely familiar. When he was just a few feet away, he stopped and stared directly into my eyes, his green eyes piercing.

I was about to speak when he said, “Well, Doré, it looks like you’ve decided to go the other way.”

He shook his head and continued walking. I turned to see where he was heading, but he had vanished. There were no buildings or trees for him to disappear behind. He was gone as if into thin air. Startled, I got up and hurried away. When I got home, I was still trembling.

I stepped out onto the back patio and gazed at our beautiful garden. With all the unusual events that had unfolded in my life since my cancer surgery, I couldn’t quite understand why this one had shaken me so profoundly.

Then it hit me—it wasn’t the fact that the man knew my name or vanished into thin air that disturbed me. It was his message about me going in the opposite direction. How did this man know what I was thinking?

When Dennis got home from work, I decided not to discuss it with him. I knew I needed to find some answers on my own. After Dennis and Wendy had gone to bed that night, I settled in the family room and lit a fire in the wood-burning fireplace. A quiet voice urged me to place my hands over my heart and relax.

I followed that instinct.

“Well,” I thought, “it’s time to move forward. I need to shut down my employment agency, stay committed to the cancer support group, focus on my healing, keep working with my therapist, and spend some time on my own.”

I wanted to attend a week-long cancer support retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains. Several members of my cancer support group had been before and spoke highly of the experience. Over the next 30 days, I focused on resting and recovering so I’d be well enough to attend the retreat. The day finally arrived when I knew I had to tell Dennis about my plans to participate in the retreat and close the business. I dreaded the conversation, and my hands felt clammy. I could almost hear his critical voice, predicting disaster and financial ruin. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and laid everything out for him.

“Doré, if you close the business, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I don’t agree, Dennis; this feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure, you say that now. But in a few months, you’ll regret it and wish everything was back as it was.”

His voice grew angrier with every word.

“Listen, I plan to attend a ten-day retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains with other cancer survivors.”

“A retreat? Have you thought this through? What the hell is wrong with you? Is this something we can afford right now, especially if it’s coming from our savings? I’m concerned about your direction, and I feel like the decisions you’ve been making lately might harm you in the long run. I wasn’t sure about the therapist before, and now I’m even more worried. Are you sure this is what you need to move forward?”

“Yes, it’s a cancer retreat, and I’ve given it a lot of careful consideration. This is something I believe will truly help me.”

“I want you to wait until next week before making any decisions. Maybe by then, you’ll come to your senses.”

Frustrated, I agreed to make the reservations for the retreat next week and hold off on closing the business until I returned. I was just as frustrated with Dennis as he was with me. I turned around and walked away.