When the second week of February rolls in, the last memories I have of my father come along with it. Memories that don’t seem to fade with time. It’s almost nine years that my Dad is gone now. Although I don’t find myself recounting the last day we had together as often as I used to, when February shows up – so do the memories. And I’m right back there.
My Grandfather’s birthday is February 11th. A day our family celebrates each year. In 2011 we took him out for a birthday dinner. A day I may otherwise not remember in such detail, if it weren’t the last time I saw my father alive. Life changing events have that effect on us.
My father was struggling that night. His alcoholism had a firm grip on him at this point. He was doing his best to disguise it. Being that he was out with his family, he avoided ordering alcohol at the restaurant. He stepped outside for a smoke. I followed behind to get some air and a moment alone with him. I could see he was struggling – physically. His body going through withdrawals. He had become so dependent on the alcohol, he couldn’t function without it. It was hard to watch. This was an educated man. A chiropractor. He spent years of his life studying the mechanisms of the human body and modalities on how to heal it. Yet, there he stood next to me, smoking his cigarette as his hands trembled. This was the man of my life. The one I could go to with all my questions, with certainty he’d have the answers. But this night, conversation wasn’t coming easily. He wasn’t well. He knew it, and I knew it. I ordered him a drink when we got back to our table. I couldn’t bear to watch him suffer for the sake of sparing us the pain of watching him drink. It was more painful to watch him not. Enabling? Probably. But sometimes that’s what we do when someone we love is suffering and they don’t want to help themselves. Whether it’s right or wrong.
After dinner we went back to my grandfather’s house for cake and coffee. My babygirl was only two years old at the time, and the sweetest little thing in our lives. She had made special Valentine’s Day cards for each family member. Hearts, stickers and glitter for all! She went around the room distributing her special creations. We all smiled and delighted in her pure display of affection.
After birthday cake, we gathered our things to say our goodbyes. It was time to get little Miss Ella Rae home for bed. We circled the room giving out end of the night hugs and kisses. I hugged and kissed my father as usual, unknowing of our last embrace. It’s crazy too, because one of the things I miss most about him to this day, is the way I fit so neatly into his arms when he’d hug me and how he’d lean his tall neck down to kiss my forehead. What I would do for one of those now.
We packed into our car and drove off for home. We didn’t make it very far down the road when I felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to call back over to my grandfather’s house. My mother answered. “What’s up?” she asked. “Did you forget something?” I hadn’t forgotten anything, I just wanted to tell my Dad I loved him. But I had just done that only moments earlier. “Okay, I’ll tell him.” My mother said. But I insisted she do this with me on the phone. I wanted to be sure she’d tell him. I needed him to know one more time that I loved him. I didn’t know why, but I did. It was imperative that he know.
My father passed away March 3, 2011. Twenty eight days after that night. During the weeks and months that followed his passing, I often went back to that last night we saw each other. I replayed it over and over and was struck by that last phone call. How did I know that last I Love You was so important. It took me a long time, but I discovered that on a conscious level I didn’t know. It was on a Soul level that I did. My father and I shared a very special relationship. We’ve shared lives before. Our souls knew that night, that would be our last time together in this one. It was my Spirit that pushed me to call back and send one more I Love You to his. It was saying so long, until we meet again.
Our souls are full of universal knowledge that our logical minds can only try to understand. When we share strong bonds of love with one another, they are never broken. Our connections are like threads woven together. When we are separated by a death of the physical body, these threads remain. I said goodbye to my father that night. My soul knew his soul would be leaving soon. We would be beginning a new connection. One that would be different from our time together here. Now, I would have a special angel to guide me from Heaven. His Spirit has been an integral piece to my Spiritual Development. One that has brought me right here to share this with you.