My tweep Casual Perfectionist pointed out that a few years ago when she did NaBloPoMo there was theme. I thought to myself, would that hinder or help me? Today I ponder that very thing, wondering what do I write about today?
Last night, I dreamt I spoke to God. In my dream, he looked like Tom Collichio (let’s not ask why). I recall asking him about the direction I should go with my life. He didn’t answer much, would sort of look at me with a what do you think? look. As he walked away from me, I did ask him what my father thought about my choices. He assured me, my dad wanted me to do what made me happy.
Hardly a day goes by that I don’t wish I could call my dad. I try not to blame myself for all those missed opportunities to tell him things. I try to focus on one of the more meaningful conversations we had before he passed. When I asked my father, do you talk God?
He replied, yes. I imagine being faced with cancer and death being a certainty that the thought of an afterlife, or a life without pain would have crossed his mind.
What do you say? I inquired. My whole life, we had never spoke of God before. But I needed assurance that my dad had set things right when he had the chance.
“I ask him to look after you kids, and Debbie . And that when it’s time to go that I’ll go”.
I wiped tears from my eyes. “that’s all I needed to know”.
He died four days later. And after six years, my heart still aches.