Wednesday, August 20, 2014

If Only For an Hour ...

"If you could sit on this bench and chat for an hour with anyone from your past or present, who would it be?"

(Sorry, I don't have a picture of a bench)
That was the question posted on my Facebook feed one morning. I read the words and exhaled one simple word "Dad".

Then I wondered how that conversation might go. One hour goes by fast when you are speaking about matters of the heart. I wouldn't want to waste a breath. What could one say to someone you haven't had a conversation with in 31 years...

Me: I think about you a lot, Dad.
Dad: I know ...
Me: I have felt your presence with me at times. Were you really there?
Dad: More than you will ever know.
Me: I'm sorry.
Dad: Why?
Me: I wasn't 'enough' to you after you were hospitalized. I should have done more, said more, tried more, believed more...
Dad: I knew what was in your heart. That was all that mattered.
Me: I became more concerned about Mom ...
Dad: That is what I wanted.
Me: What was it like ... to be trapped in a body that did not work?
Dad: We only have an hour. Let's talk about living, not dying ...
Me: I moved back 'home', Dad! Right after you died. I needed to move away. And I wanted to be closer to 'you', to our roots.
Dad: I was there ...
Me: I wanted to get to know your brothers and I am doing it, Dad! I am!! They are incredible and wise and kind. Oh, so kind. Dad, they talk about you with such admiration.
Dad: I wish they could hear what I think about them. I wish they knew how I felt ...
Me: They see it in the pictures of you. They remember how you treated them when they were younger and how that really never changed. They hold you in such high esteem because of your actions. You were a role model to them, Dad.
Dad: See what I mean about knowing what is in another person's heart? Believe it when you feel it. It is real.
Me: You are missed, you know. I wish you could walk at Your Son's side to guide and encourage him. He is a great man you know...
Dad: Yes, I know.
Me: He is so much like you, Dad. Too much in some ways...
Dad: Let him learn from my mistakes ... family first, work second.
Me: We know that in our heads and by some miracle I have been able to take that lesson and make it work for me. Why is it so much harder when you are a man?
Dad: We only have an hour ...
Me: What can I tell him? Can you find him and give him an hour of your time? I need to tell him what you want to say but he needs to hear it from you!
Dad: We never know why we are given what we are given. We have this time. Let's make the most of it. I want you to know that I believe in you. I believe in all of you. I always have ...
Silence. Just silence, as I look into his eyes and there is no need to memorize them because I already have...
Dad: If I could do things over again I would want to do them differently but chances are, that I would end up doing it all exactly the way I did it the first time, you know. I was following the path that I thought I was destined to live...
Me: Mom thought there was a better path.
Dad: There is always a 'better' path. When you are not on it. When you are on it, you see the obstacles and sacrifices then suddenly the path you abandoned looks better.
Me: I know exactly what you mean ...
Dad: Mom believed in me more than I believed in myself you know. I was doing the best that I could do but we get stuck on a path because we know it so well. It is only in looking back, that we see there could have been a better way. It was important that Your Sisters were well established in their own lives before we made any big moves or changes. Everything would have changed if I had done one thing differently. Everything...
I sit quietly and know what he says is the truth.
Dad: What is, is good. It is so very good. You may not have been born if it had been any other way. Nor so many of the grandchildren. Everyone is making a difference. Everyone. You all need to know and remember that. Even when it doesn't feel like it is, every little thing is important. It all matters. Remember the time I came out and talked with you when you were sitting in the trailer? Little at the time. Not so little now...
Me: I remember it well
A wordless conversation transpires and so very much is said without a word being uttered.
Me: Our family has grown so much since you were here. So much has changed. Yet much has stayed the same.
Dad stares off into the scenery as if he sees and knows exactly what I am saying and so much more...
Me: Mom found the baseball cap that Your Grandson gave to you and gifted it back to him along with the memories he wrote about on that day ...
Dad: I'm glad (he tears up and his words get caught up in his throat. Then he manages to sputter out the words) ... these are happy tears.
Me: Your Grandson felt exactly the same way.
Dad: I know. I know ...
Silence as we both gaze into the skies above and think of all that we know without knowing.
Dad: I have to go now.
Me: Can you go see the others? They need to hear this. They need to see you. They need to feel you!
Dad: I cannot make any promises. Tell them to trust in their hearts. Let them know that I am there. I always have been. I always will be.
Tears fall down my cheeks my shoulders throb with the ache of wanting to sob aloud ...
Dad: Family first. Don't forget. Work second ...

I open my eyes and I was back home in my world. A world where family is (almost always) first, a world where I (try to) believe in my heart and I am grounded, oh-so-grounded, knowing that the decision that I made on that fateful day in December, 1987 (when Dad lost his battle here on this earth), I was being guided to find this very spot of paradise. Right here on earth.

He is gone but he is here. In so very many ways. Always in my heart. "You are forever in my heart, Dad. I hold my memories dear and create conversations where I try to believe I hear what you are telling me..."

"Trust in your heart. I am there. I always have been. I always will be." His words echo in my mind like he was sitting right beside me. If only for an hour ...

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