Old House and One Day at a Time.

It's a process, and a different process for each individual. Lately, my Mom, and several of my parents friends, have been feeling a pull towards a house that my parents lived in from 1980-1985. It's right around the corner from our home...a house that I drive past several times a day. Joe King (my Dads best man and best friend) has had a dream that (a young version of my) Dad is standing on the back porch, laughing (as he always did), shouting "Come on in Joe! Don't be scared". When he told Mom about his dream, she said that she too has been feeling like she needed to visit the old house. So, on day 49, we headed over. I've heard many {crazy, inappropriate, insane} stories about all the good times had at 365 Main Street. My parents said that yes, it's a dump now - and yes, it was a dump way back when. But it's where they fell in love. We contacted the owner of the house who said unfortunately the house had been gutted, but that we were more than welcome to take a look around. When we walked inside Mom told me where everything was, and described in detail the layout of the house and told several funny stories about the good times had in this tiny home. She pointed out to the yard to where the dog kennel was, and their garden...to the tub where all of Kizzys puppies were born, and to the little room that my parents shared (and to the window where Moms underwear were hanging on the day that PopPop Callahan barged in!). Mom cried a bit, and I could tell that being at 365 Main Street was what she needed to wish Dad along to his next life. For me though, it wasn't what I needed...which actually added to my sadness. 

The front of 365 Main Street.

The house where they fell in love. 

Not much has changed...just moving the door a bit to the right and removing the window. This is the porch where Dads been standing and laughing on Joes dreams. 

The owner of the house told us that we were welcome to keep anything that we found inside the house. Tucked away in the corner was an old piece of bouy, from one of Dads traps, which is now over 31 years old....

When we got home, Mom pulled out some photos of the old house. From top left there is Dad in their room, sleeping on their mattress (which just laid on the floor) with Moms cat "Booger". The next is Christmas morning in their little house, this was the day that Dad proposed. In the middle is Mom Dad and Kizzy on the back porch. Bottom left is Dad with booger on Christmas morning and to the right is Mom with their dogs and Pheasants from one of her first hunting trips. 

 When we got home I napped for a bit, trying to shake it - and couldn't. So I went out to my Dads garage - into the "War Room"....surrounded by all of his bows and arrows that he made, and deer skulls that we'd painted when I was a little kid. I grabbed a "wish" candle and wrote on it a little prayer - and then lit it and sat in meditation. There was a lot going through my mind - memories, sadness, frustrations, anger....but it ended with me as a little girl, sitting next to him by a river, resting my head on his shoulder. One day at a time, one day at a time.

I once asked a bird,
"How is it that you fly in this gravity
Of darkness?"
She responded,
"Love lifts
Me."

~Hafiz

Forty Nine Days.

My Dad died 49 days ago. There are moments that it feels like it's been an eternity,  there are days that it feels like only yesterday, and then there are days where it just doesn't seem real. Though I have been wanting and searching for him, he hasn't been around....not in my dreams... no "signs". A few times I have woken up in the middle of the night, and hoping that he was there I would say out loud "DAD? Dad? Is that you?". I have tried calling out to him in the car, and screaming his name out at the beach, but he hasn't come. In Buddhism they believe that the soul takes 49 days to find it's next life, for the spirit to be born again into it's next adventure. So maybe that's why I haven't felt him...because maybe he's still been in transition. I'm not a religious person, but I feel more connected to Buddhism than any other organized religion. So for 49 days now I have been praying that his soul finds a home, and some peace. I have been clinging to him, with two hands, tight grasp, and maybe that's whats keeping him from moving on...so today I'm lighting a candle, taking in some silence, and saying goodbye...offering up my final prayer that he is wherever he needs to be. With Karma like his, this next life he's about to embark on is bound to be pretty fucking amazing. I only wish that I could join him wherever he is, but there's time for that I suppose - and he'll be waiting for me until I get there..and when I do, I'll have lots of stories to tell, "World Dominations" to brag about and some epic tall-tale-Fishing-stories.

Death is one of two things...

Either it is annihilation, and the dead have no consciousness of anything;

or, as we are told, it is really a change:

a migration of the soul from one place to another.

~ Socrates ~