We love You, Dad

We love you, Dad. Sometimes us kids don’t show it—our job is to break out of the nest—but you will always be our number one hero. Enjoy tales by Adrienne and Jen A.C. Click the links to visit ReadThisPlease Edition #3, our tribute to fathers.

 

The Spirit of Father’s Day
by Adrienne S Moody

I watched an old favorite movie of mine last night. Holly Hunter and Richard Dreyfuss star in, ‘Always,’ a story of a man who dies and is able to linger on earth to help others that remain here. It gives me hope. I watched it again and remembered my dad. Hours after he died in a hospital bed nearly five hundred miles away from where I slept, he visited me. He didn’t just visit, he made a racket in my kitchen ten minutes before the alarm went off to wake me as I had to catch an early flight home, to him.

I don’t need proof that this can happen; I know that it did. It made me believe that life doesn’t end when we draw our last breath – it just changes into a different kind of energy. I wonder if he traveled in a way that we would understand. Did he pass over the Rockies which he dearly loved? Could he feel the moonlight on his skin? We’ve all read the ghost stories of souls who are at unrest and refuse to leave this earthly plane. I think it’s true. I also believe that when there is a strong bond of love, that the impossible can happen.

He needed me to be on that flight—to be the first one to arrive in our home town, to support my mom. They were a couple who could not stand alone, without the other. He knew it. That love for her made it possible for him to do what he did. That I believe. That I know.

He visited my dreams for months after his demise. I was experiencing trauma in my life and he showed me options in my dreams. It wasn’t like I was calling his name asking for help, he just appeared there in my sleep and told me a story, showing me the way. He helped me see things I couldn’t see.

I remember the last dream I had of him. He appeared before me looking as he did when he was sick, thin, haggard, bent, with a sad face. He turned from me and walked slowly away as I stood and watched. I knew he was saying goodbye. He ran out of energy and could no longer stay and watch over me. I knew he had to go.

I was in the Mall today. People bustled here and there, pushing baby carriages, holding spring babies, old people and young passed by me. Then I remembered. It was Father’s Day tomorrow and everyone was out shopping. I walked through the men’s department and ran my hand across the displays of sweaters, like the kind I used to buy for him. I no longer express my loss for him through tears. That place is packed away deep inside of me.

When Richard Dreyfuss tries to hang onto his girlfriend by putting thoughts in her head about him and forgets what his duty is – to help her free herself from him and not use the opportunity for his own needs, the spirit guide (the grand Audrey Hepburn) tells him that when he is out for his own needs, it is a true waste of spirit.

Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there.

 

The Spirit of Father’s Day © 2011 Adrienne S Moody. Read the latest Adrienne exploit on Now.readthisplease.

 

 

June 19th, 2011, 6:47PM
by Jen A.C.

Dad, it’s been three years… since we talked. I’m not sure how to do this… how to talk to you? Three years ago, I heard your voice. I’m not hearing it now… I’m not sure if you’re really listening, but I need to talk to you. You told me then that you’re always listening, remember? I’m not sure I believe that… could’ve been me talking to me… probably was… part of me believes, so I’ll just talk…

…I was at the house this morning. All the boys were there; Mom cooked us breakfast. Because I’m home this year, we thought we’d have a couple hours together, just the six of us. The youngest kids took some persuading, but Karen was a sweetheart; put together a little carnival for everybody at their house… all the girls pitched in. Mark grumbled a bit about his lawn, but it was half-hearted… Karen told me later, it was his idea.

Even with all of us there, the table was a little quieter than usual, until Tom started fooling around… No, he started it… like usual… he’s just like you, you know… don’t think he’ll ever grow up… kept pushing the waffles away from me; like when I was six. Everyone started laughing when I slapped his arm and yelled, “STOP IT TOM!!!” like I was six.

That’s when Mom turned around from the stove and gave us the “look”… took us all by surprise… till she followed it with a huge smile, her blue eyes sparkling. Michael was at the sink… gave her a big hug… so we all took a turn. After that, the mood changed… we all had a great time… even Tony stopped being serious for a while… almost like… you were there…

Then, we all went to Mark’s. The boy’s got the royal treatment from the kids… carnival to see, handmade cards to read and smile at… lots more hugs and laughter.

I’m back at my place now. There were messages waiting for me. New and old friends sent me messages; some for me about you and some shared their messages to their fathers. The internet is full of messages to fathers today. Everywhere I look it’s all about fathers.

…When you died… I was angry with you… for leaving me alone. I thought I wouldn’t be able to cope with life… without you. Out of spite and to prove myself wrong, I ran away. The more challenges I overcame… the surer I could be… I didn’t need you. Just hollow victories, all for my ego.

For three years I’ve allowed myself to feel nothing but anger. It drove me. What I have to tell you… what I hate about myself… especially… what I hate to admit… to you… at times I wished you were abusive or a deadbeat or some other kind of jerk… I wanted to blame you… for everything.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I’ve tried to recount the years since your death, struggling to make sense of my mistakes. It wasn’t until I read one of those messages today that I started to understand…

…The message wasn’t directly aimed at Father’s Day. It was just a thought, really. A thought directed at history and its effect on today, with the actions of fathers, uncles and forefathers in its processing of events occurring now.

Reading that thought from a friend plus the experience of watching your sons today showed me how I was wrong. The boys are wonderful men… I saw it in Mom’s eyes… I see it… you’re in them… seriousness… imagination… joy… playfulness… all of you is in them… not just because of genetics… it’s the history of you with them… that’s in them.

That’s what fathers are… each of you are our history… my mistake… I wasn’t being… what the history we shared together made me… now I know you’re here with me… we’ll never be far apart… part of me is you…

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you…

 

June 19th, 2011 © 2011 Jen A.C. Read more of Jen’s works on ReadThisPlease.com.

 

 

ReadThisPlease Edition #3

Father, where art thou?

 

column 1

My Pa by Osonegro

On Safari by Ellie-May

Hottest Day Of The Year by Gaboo

Red Rose Valley by Casi

 

column 2

Ashes to Dust by Ellie-May

Too Late by Trainwhistle

Blue by Ellie-May

 

column 3

Family Picnics by Trainwhistle

On The Fridge Door by Ellie-May

Old Coat by Gaboo

The Visit by Trainwhistle

Father, Where Are You? by Sweetexpression

 

 


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One Response to “We love You, Dad”
  1. Gaboo says:

    I always figured my father owed me something, for bringing me into this place, or for not living up to certain expectations. Then it dawned on me, so I said it to my son and broke the chain. I told him that I owe him nothing. Anything I do for him is bonus. I owe him nothing more than I owe a stranger on the street. He got it. Now we’ve grown much closer it a short period of time. He actually volunteers to hang out with me.

    I think I’m trying to say that anything our fathers do positively for us—if they don’t eat their own young—is a gift, whether by obligation or commitment. The opportunity presented itself and our father smiled or nodded. It was a bonus. He did it by choice because he thought us ‘okay’.

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