I was talking with my mom this morning, and things turned to the topic of Papa again.  It started when she told me that she had mowed her lawn one day, and how it had really been an effort for her.

"Mom, just call me.  I'll be happy to come do it."
"No, it's OK.  I came inside, toweled off, and talked to Papa's picture.  I told him that I was going to pay somebody to come do it from now on."
"Yeah, he didn't say anything, so I think he's OK with it."

My mom, everybody.

There have been so many times since Papa died that I've wanted to talk to him about something.  Several friends have told me about experiences they've had talking to loved ones who have passed away, but it's felt really strange to me.  Today, though, I just really wished I could contact him.  I was going through some of his camping equipment that he left me, and I wanted to tell him how I was going to use it.  I wanted him to know about the trip with Blake and Jack that I'm hatching in my head.

I was spreading some of the stuff out on my lawn to check its condition, so I just sat there in the middle of it, quieted my mind, and thought, "Papa?"  This still felt strange, so I followed it with a question, "Can you hear me?"

And that's when I realized that I'd just meditated the first line of a Barbra Streisand song.  My dad is shaking his head right now, thinking, "My boy, everybody."


Laura said...

perfection... laughed with tears in my eyes for you... xoxo

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