A month before my Dad died, I experienced something magical and wonderful-a once in a lifetime event. I arrived at my parent's home on a crisp, perfectly autumnal day before Thanksgiving. My Dad was in the field on his beloved tractor. A little boy next door came up to him at the far end of the field. My Dad reached over and helped lift the youngster into his lap to "steer" forward.
I stood there transfixed, as if my mind were taking a snapshot, but far more than that was going on. This was a rememberance of days long ago when my Dad had allowed me to guide this plowing machine through the fields. We reap what we sow and what a field of love my Dad harvested this day. Life coming full circle before my eyes.
Later, my Dad asked me to guide the tractor around the side of the house. No lap. Just me. A son has now become a man and a father would soon be returning to Nature-the cycle of life.
My Dad and I mysteriously have become closer in death in ways I find hard to describe in mere words. The memories flood back to me now with such deep resonance and significance. All those happy times, before the confusion and frustration of the teen years. We still had special moments later on, but nothing quite lasts like those early years, when one's father seems like a god in a child's mind.
One day recently, I walked the beach my Dad took me to as a child and remembered his lifting me onto his shoulders to break the waves. Watching the tides roll in and out, I felt my father's love for me as something vaster and greater than anything I could ever imagine.
In death, the petty disagreements and criticisms are forgotten and the true core and essence of someone is brought to the surface of memory.
On the flight home Christmas Day 1998, the day after my father died, I heard my father's voice while gazing into the clouds. I know my father is in a place of love and peace and still continuing his spiritual journey.
Thank you Dad for loving me and I hope to see you on the other side of that veil one day. I love you.