Remembering Dad

I don't normally acknowledge the anniversaries of 'the end' out loud. I prefer to celebrate new beginnings and marking a memory-making-moment in time, over the anniversary of a loss.

Today I am making an exception because of a message that I received yesterday that felt a little 'heaven sent'.

I received my very first comment from a reader. It was spurred on by an article that I had written, which was published in her local paper. I had written about the wedding band that Dad gave to Mom on their wedding day and the memories that held for me.

Her story about her mom's ring was parallel to the story I wrote. That 'simple gold band' held the same significance to her as it did to me.

This is the part that makes me feel that there 'are no such things as coincidences'. She wrote that this particular article really touched her heart 'today' ... because 'today' was the first anniversary of the passing of her father. My dad died on the anniversary of 'today' - one day after I received her email.

I have a small arsenal of 'Remembering Dad' stories. I am going to try to go back into the archives of my blog and earmark them with that label so I can easily retrieve them when the occasion calls.

Today I have one little moment in time that allows me to believe in an energy that lets me feel Dad's presence when he is not here ...

I was out at Mom's last month. Her snow shovellers continued to renege on her wish (I do believe that it is quite literally Mom's wish, because I am not certain that she has specifically told her snow-shovellers what she expects to be shovelled??) to have her deck and patio of interlocking blocks shovelled off, in addition to the sidewalks and driveway.

I woke up early one morning with the time and energy to surprise Mom before she woke. I thought I would just go out and shovel 'for a while' and see how far I got before Mom woke up and caught me in the act. I ended up having time to almost completely shovel off her deck and patio before I found her looking out of her kitchen window and beckoning me to stop (not really).

I found myself thinking of Dad as I shovelled off what Mom wished to have done. Fleeting thoughts without tangible words. Just wistful thinking of Dad ... who he was ... how he lived ... and how he would have just automatically shovelled off what Mom had expected, without a second thought ... if he was here to do it for her.

It was a beautiful, windless morning. I was aware of the wind chimes that were on the corner of the garage because I bumped them a few times as I shovelled in that area. Other than the times that I bumped them they remained silent.

I was no where in the vicinity of the chimes when they rang one more time as I was almost finished the job at hand. I had been thinking of Dad. I felt him within me. It was as if the ringing of the chime was Dad saying "Thank you" ... I immediately thought "Dad??? ..." The chime rang one more time.

And that was it. The chime never rang again.

Do I have an angel on my shoulder? Could Dad be watching out over Mom?

It brings a quiet sense of peace to believe in that which I don't see. Listen to the quiet in your world ... what do you hear? What do you feel?

Was it just a coincidence? I don't believe in coincidences...