I was alone in my living room, the night before my father’s funeral. Everyone had gone to bed, but I chose to sit up and be alone in my thoughts.
My father and I had never been especially close. We loved each other from an uneasy distance.
I found myself sitting on the couch. The TV was on, but the sound was turned down.
I was not out of my mind with grief. I was not drinking or drugging. I was simply sad, very sad, for all the stupid things we did to each other during our crazy dance of life.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the presence of him. No I couldn’t see him, but I knew it was him just the same. I was in his head, and he was in mine. He was somehow permitted to share with me where he was, and the plane he was now on was unbelievably beautiful. No, not to the eyes, but to the heart.
We spent some time together. We both realized in an instant that most of the crap we had done to each other was absurd. We were able to laugh at our actions, because we now knew how trivial it all was.
But the experience became unbearable to me. The joy and love and beauty, was too much for me to handle so I finally told him, ‘Dad, you are going to have to leave, this is too intense, I’m going to short out.’ My mind couldn’t take it anymore, my heart was too full.
And he slowly left me.
I believe this happened to me with all my heart. Since that time, I’ve come to understand that he was allowed to visit me to prepare me for the trials I would soon undergo — amputation, loss of a son. I now know that where my father is, time is not linear and he could see everything at once — past, present and future.
I never doubt but that this did happen to me. I had a visit from my father from the other side. And I know that is an amazing place to be.
(Photo from google.com)