The other day, I sat on my therapist's couch and explained to him about the psychic I went to just for shits and giggles. I told him about how the psychic immediately apologized for my dad's passing without even knowing me or having me tell him so. He even said that my dad traveled up to Cape Cod with me, as I always begged him to because it was a huge fisherman's town and I knew he would have loved it. Skeptic as he was, I then continued to tell him that I can actually "hear" my dad talking to me - not profound words or giving me the lotto numbers (which would be awesome), but like when I'm cooking, I hear, "Watch ya don't cuchyerself'!!!" in his Brooklyn accent. As I was cutting vegetables for my mother, as Dad always did for her, he guided me to cut them a certain way. When I handed the vegetables over to Mom, she said, "I...I can't believe you cut these just like your dad used to." In a dream I had, he was talking to me. Strange as this may sound, but I was "alert and aware" in my dream - I had control over what I said or did. Anyway, every time he would say something to me in my dream, I would say, "Well how do I know that it's not just my mind making you talk?" And he let off a wheezy laugh and said, "I'm right in front of ya - ya so crazy!" I insisted though, "Tell me something to prove it." He said, "Ok - remember da time I took you to get your first ATV and you almost backed it up right on the highway?" He laughed, as he always used to tell that story. "No Dad, I know that story. Tell me something I don't know... Prove it." He said with his hands flying in the air, "Ok, ok ok --- how 'bout Freddy 'Griffin'??? He lives in Brooklyn - he's in his late 60's." (Name of course is changed.) This was a name that was not familiar to me. It wasn't even an Italian name. I wrote it down as soon as I woke up. As I'm telling this to my therapist, he just nodded and kept listening...
I explained further, that the next morning while I'm having my coffee, checking my Facebook, I see a person on my friends list with the last name of Griffin. I immediately emailed him and asked if he had a relative with this description. Sure enough he did and kept asking me, "How do you know him? What's this about? Is everything ok?" This guy worked with my father down at the South Street Fish Market for years. Even my own sister remembers him from taking trips over there with Dad. I asked my mom, and she remembered him too. I. never. heard. of this man before in my life. My therapist looked up at me and said, "Well, you probably heard the name while you were young and it just crept up into your subconsciousness." Fair enough, I thought. And that may very well be. Who am I to argue with logic and plus, my therapist is super intelligent. He knows a lot about everything. I know spirituality and science are polar opposites, so you really can't argue or convince someone who is more logical than they are spiritual. But I have to admit, it did leave me feeling as though I lost 2% of my faith (maybe even a little more). I can't explain it. I started questioning life and what happens after we die. Are we just molecules and cells that develop into these intelligent beings and then after somewhat years, we end up pushing up daisies? I started to think even more: one day, I'm walking outside with Dad trying to rehabilitate his hip he had broken recently, while telling me he loved me, and then not even a week later, I'm carrying him home in a small gift box of his ashes." How do you explain that? I started to get frustrated, angry and then I was just sad. The strongest man I have ever known was being poured into a small dug up hole where a baby oak tree would lie on top of him. I started begging God for more proof of His existence. I need my faith to be.....and there it was written on a bottle of mouthwash: "restore". I need my faith restored. Funny how the brain works, huh?
All these logical reasons of all my spiritual experiences left me somehow empty with a bunch of unanswered questions. What makes someone be here one moment and then 'poof' --- gone the next? It's just so unexplainable, and yet it is. A friend of mine just lost her mother suddenly this week. What makes someone lose someone so close to them just. like. that? I don't know which is worse: knowing a couple of years before a parent's death or a sudden one. My wife lost her dad suddenly as well. What a hard, unexplainable recovery to go through, and she still goes through it every single day. No more conversations. No more spending time with them. Their existence is completely fizzled out -- gone -- and yet we have all of their belongings still here on earth - like a slap in the face. I don't care how much faith you have in God - you have to still have a little wonder about our afterlife. I guess I do admit, I need more proof, maybe just a bit more faith restored.
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