My father died almost ten years ago, and he took up so much space in my life and all the lives around him, we all just felt like we had a gaping hole next to us where he was supposed to be. Even after ten years, I have an ache when I think of him, wishing I could see his infectious smile or hear his booming laugh just one more time.
After my dad died, mom had two weird encounters that we had to attribute to his sliding a message back through from the other side. First was for about 30 days right after he died, the electric meter stopped. He always complained loudly about the theives at the electric company, especially during the winter (and this was in January), and then just as suddenly as it stopped, the electric meter started whirring ’round again. The other incident was odder. About two weeks after his death, my mom was sitting in the living room one night and looked up at the ceiling, and there was this great big brown watermark on it from leaking. She made a mental note to pick up some patching materials and find that leak on the roof. She fixed the leak, and that next night she looked back up at the ceiling, and that great big brown water mark was completely gone. It was never there.
Knowing my Dad, if he were given a couple of things he could do to let us know he was all right on the other side life’s great divide, these are the two things he would pick, both of them directed at looking out for my mom, his bride, the woman he loved with a passion for 40+ years and apparently beyond.
I had a million other reasons to love him, but adoring my mother was the thing that made him 100 feet tall in my eyes.
Happy Father’s Day, daddy, wherever you are.