Six Years
Dad! What’s it been… six years now? I really miss you. The last time we spoke I was living in Idaho. I was there only a year when I got the call I dreaded – it was time for you to leave us. We all knew it was coming but when it does – the knowing doesn’t help one damn bit. There were times, on one of my visits back home, that our goodbye’s seemed to carry the heaviness of our hearts like a fearsome rain cloud. Knowing that one day the storm would come and the rain would cause the dams to break.
Looking back, I can see how life’s mishaps and struggles all serve a purpose. Although difficult in the moment, the complex dove-tailing of individual events are in reality precise formulations. A necessary medicine to bring forth healing when properly amalgamated or continued self deception when not taken as prescribed.
All roads lead to somewhere and we just don’t know anything about our destination until we arrive.
Even then, the picture can seem a bit out of focus as we rub our eyes in the belief that clarity will come as a result of this action. My wish was always that you would find spiritual healing in this life Dad. Little did I know these things can take place postmortem.
My life, floating as it was in the doldrums, forced me to upend everything and go back to where it all began. That year before your death was filled with challenges but I got to spend it with you and Mom. A gift I did not recognize and unwrap until you were gone. As you know, I was always a bit of an oddity – never fitting in – and I suspect that is how you always felt in life. Unlike the typical child, I actually enjoyed spending time with you both. Dad, I had no idea how valuable that year would be – and I am thankful for all the hardship that led me back to you.
That was a very tough year for you as well. The mental and physical pain and degradation of the years had hollowed you out by then leaving only a shell of the man you once were. Seemingly connected to existence through a tangled mesh of frayed circuitry that could only deliver measured increments of pain. Conversations that lasted longer than five minutes were rare at that point. I confess to feeling frustrated with the lack of communication. I selfishly wanted something you could not give.
Remember the day they put you in the box?
There was a short service at the funeral home and I didn’t want to go. I got dressed and readied myself as best I could. The previous three days had been exhausting with very little sleep. Perhaps that put me in a zone of consciousness that allowed the following to occur.
As I reached for the bedroom door to leave I felt a strange sort of stillness and like an animal I froze in place. It was then that I focused my senses. “Please wait. You need to rest. I am so alone. I feel so confused and tired but I can’t sleep in this place. Can you sit with me just for a little while?”. Sitting down on the edge of the bed I waited and thought about where you were and why you felt so alone… I thought that Light Beings or Angels had already come to guide your Spirit home. How could I be hearing my dead father? “Tell her I am sorry I had to go.”
Time was still in control of my life and it doesn’t stop out of respect for a suffering heart – it waits and cares for no one. I forced myself to reenter the land of the living and go pay my respects to the body in the box. If I could have only stayed at home with you I would have – for you had left your battered vessel behind and wanted nothing more from it. It had served you for 86 years – or had you served it?
This is my current avenue of exploration. Learning to undue all the knots to sort out fact from fiction on what it really means to be alive. Detaching from this body as my sole identity to find the treasured soul within – the true Self. The illusory world we enter is such an oppressive place. Dominated by scoundrels sketching out our realities from cradle to grave. Did you come to realize this? What would you have done differently?
You were dressed in your finest suit and wearing makeup for the first time in your life.
I wondered if you were wearing any shoes. Of course, you didn’t need them and if you did I didn’t think dress shoes were really the best choice. It was good to get beyond that day. I’m not sure how this happened but I ended up writing your obituary for the newspaper. I was a mess and felt the pressure of the task ahead of me. The exploration of finding the right words to honor your life was to be the beginning of a very eye opening experience in the weeks to come. I wondered what you would have said about it. Would you have preferred to hear it before your departure from this realm? I sometimes think that would be a better process for all involved. It was a love letter from your children after all.
I still have so many questions for you. How will I ever know why I was allowed to see where you went on your journey to the first heaven? If only you could confirm my story, Dad, it would help. Those vivid dreams I had of seeing you transition until I could no longer see you on the other side were meant to instruct but I am still trying to understand it all.
In the first dream I found myself flying in the air and descending into a marvelous brilliantly colored forest full of ancient trees and a small number of modest cabins interspersed throughout. Did you create this place? It felt nothing like the world I knew. I had no idea what to do and I felt confused and a bit frantic. It was then that I saw a dark haired woman walking with some young children. I told her I was looking for you and she pointed to a cabin that wasn’t very far from where I stood. As I approached, you walked out of the unassuming cabin with such peace and tranquility. No more pain. And it would appear I was right about the shoes.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
There you were and I remember just repeating “Dad! Dad… why?” followed by an avalanche of tears. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I was dead. I then asked you why I was here – so certain of my demise. You then indicated (there were never any spoken words) that it was you that had died and motioned me forward. Again, I began sobbing as my broken heart remembered what had happened. Eventually, I calmed down and we sat there in quiet wonderment… and then I woke up to the plain wrap world of material existence.
There were several other dreams and with each one you became a younger version of yourself. I took this to mean you were advancing and going through some sort of evolutionary understanding as you integrated this life’s experience to advance to the next stage of “being”. I really don’t know.
In the very last dream I knew you would not be able to visit me again in this way. I tried to be brave and not cry but as you set out to leave I broke down and fell to my knees still trying to hide my grief by covering my face with my hands. You lifted your hand and tenderly laid it upon my head for a moment and then walked away. I watched you go down a pathway and I saw your mom standing nearby. She was so very sad and was unable to speak to you or touch you. You didn’t seem to see her as you made your way toward a stone arched passage. She then looked at me and I got the sense that she was still “stuck” and was begging me through the language of her eyes to pray for her.
All of this got me to thinking about “toll houses” and what happens after our spirit is relieved of the cares and burdens of this world.
Did we communicate or was it just a product of an overactive imagination? Was it simply a release of creative energy meant to console and heal my psychic wounds? Perhaps it was but it opened up an area of contemplation that I hadn’t given much thought or concern to before.
I know you understand everything now. How I wish you could tell me what’s out there and to hear, once again, the reassuring words that “Everything will be alright, sweetheart”. Even though it took me a few years to staunch the tears I can now smile when I think of you. Honestly, I am glad you are not here to experience these terrible times. We are in the beginning stages of yet another ill conceived threat to human life brought to us by the usual suspects having incarnated for this purpose in time. Those in power are intent on manipulating, abusing, and dehumanizing those of us not in their ranks – again. How many times must we experience such base cruelty? Mom has really struggled these past six years without you. Please, pray for us Dad as we pray for you.
Last Breath By Erin Douglass
† Rest in Peace May 30, 2015
“God bless you and I’ll see you later – Bye-bye”. Yes, I will see you later Dad. Oh, and thanks for the watch.
One of the most touching posts yet!