Skip to main content
July 18th was my dad's birthday. He would have been 95. Historically, this has been a really fun time for my family. My brothers would visit, we'd have a party for my dad and my sister, go to the Greek festival, celebrate my parents' anniversary, spend lots of time laughing, playing, swimming, and just being together. In fact, my dad said many times before he passed away, "95 this year. Gonna be a BIG celebration." He didn't make it. I almost didn't make it either. The past months, since my dad died, I have been stumbling through. Fumbling for the energy to live, to be a wife, a mom, just a worthwhile person. This month, I actually started to live again.

For my dad's birthday, Chloe and I made our annual pilgramage to Lilydale with our soul friends. My SOLE purpose was to get a message from my dad. In fact I was almost giddy in the days leading up to our trip because I felt like I was going to get to visit him. My dad believed very much in people's ability to communicate beyond the boundaries of the human life, so I knew he would find his way to Lilydale and to me. And of course he did. In both my reading and Chloe's, my dad spoke to us through the mediums. I had never doubted that he was okay, in heaven, happy, any of that. My sadness stemmed from the fact that I missed him so much, and he hadn't spoken to me.

After each of my brothers died, they came to me in dreams--very vivid visitation dreams--to tell me they were okay. In these dreams I was able to to feel them, hug them, ask them questions, and know that they were okay. I felt sad that my dad hadn't "visited." I wasn't worried about his place in the afterlife; I knew he was in heaven. I can't really explain it. Both of my brothers died tragically, violently even, and I needed reassurance that they were okay and not stumbling around in Limbo or worse yet hell--as my good Catholic upbringing taught me. My dad died very peacefully, as I had prayed, and for the first few weeks after his death, I could feel his presence. I would find coins, that I believed he'd left out for me; my kids even started referring to this phenomenon as "pennies from Papa."

So on Sunday, when we celebrated my sister's birthday on Sunday, and she said, "There's only one thing missing..." I didn't fall apart. I know that my dad is okay. And I do miss him, but now I feel as if I was able to speak to him, hear from him, know that he is okay and in heaven with the God he loved and worshipped for 94 years, and with my brothers, who loved him so dearly and only got to spend a short time with him in this life.

Comments

  1. Sweet comfort, gentle writing. XO

    ReplyDelete
  2. When you talk to him next, please see if you can ascertain the origin of the term "diddlyhopping." Thanks.

    xoxo,
    Yer Bro

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Did I Love Him Enough?

I just started reading a new book. It's called Weight Loss for People Who Feel Too Much by Colette Baron-Reid, who I discovered on my current favorite podcast: This is Fifty With Sheri and Nancy. It is blowing my mind and showing me that some of the extra pounds I'm carrying don't even belong to me. Seriously. This is yours, this is his, this is hers, and oh wait, THAT? That belongs to a person who isn't even part of my life anymore! Great. Take your shit back.

More on that later. But, listen to the podcast. Seriously, you will love it!

Anyway, while in this super zen, grown-up, boundary-setting, higher self head space, I need to tackle an issue I've been avoiding for about 18 years but really strongly avoiding for the last 6 months. My son is growing up. He graduates from high school on Sunday, and in a few months, he's moving to Columbus to attend THE Ohio State University.

Can I tell you a secret? I used to LOVE everything about THE Ohio State University, bu…

Why Didn't I Report It?

When I was 17, I went with friends to a party at a boy's house from another school. I drank too much and passed out. I don't remember much about the incident, but I woke up with my friend screaming at a boy, pulling me up and dragging me to the car. She told me that she came looking for me and found me passed out. The boy had his penis in my face. I don't remember it. Thankfully.

I never told my parents who would have said, "How stupid could you be? You shouldn't have put yourself in that position." They would not have said, "No one should put his penis in your face without your consent."

A few months ago, I saw a picture of that boy on social media. He's a man now. With a beautiful family. He probably doesn't remember that night. I wondered: What might have happened if my friend didn't walk in and tell him to get his dick out of my face? Were there were other girls whose friends didn't come looking for them? Did they ever tell anyone…

Red Lipstick and Leopard Shoes

A month or so ago my friend and LOBL partner Melissa shared about a few of her favorite things. I loved this post because:
 1) The Sound of Music is one of my all-time favorite movies.
 2) Thinking about your favorite things is a huge mood booster.

In counseling, my therapist walked me through exercises to find a safe calm place inside my mind to go when feeling overwhelmed. The goal is to find peace, comfort, belonging, acceptance, worthiness, etc. within us so we don't need to chase it down from others. I always go to my favorite place: a beautiful little island near Key Largo we visit with our best friends. The first time we went was a magical experience: Dolphins played around the boat splashing in the aquamarine water, and I squealed, "This can't be real!" I tried to capture every single detail so I could go back there in my mind over and over. Any time someone asks me where I want to go, it's here. Always here.

I often write about these things, my favorite…