Living Proof

Last night I fell asleep right away, only to be woken up by the sounds of loud thunder and the flickering of the intense lightening. My dog raised her head and then hopped off the bed. Usually this means she has to go out. Mad took her out and I headed off into the bathroom before falling back asleep. As I came back into the bedroom to jump under the covers, I heard, "Debbayyy!" The way my father used to call out if he needed me. It sounded like it was coming from the stairwell. I turned to Mad and said, "Did you hear that? Turn down the TV," hoping that it would call out to me again, but it didn't. His voice was so audible and without a doubt, his voice! As I continued to listen to the thunder and rain outside, I fell asleep. In my dream, I saw Dad sitting at a big dining room table. I was in some sort of sunk in living room, where I would have to walk up a few stairs in order to get to him. He was covered in white light all around him, facing me, saying, ...

Of course I have to start off by saying, "by all due respect", but perhaps that would be a bit too formal. It's not that I don't have respect, because I have a ton of it -- possibly too much of it. Dad. I loved him. I still love him. It wasn't until my mid-thirties when he stopped me at the door from leaving, and then said for the very first time, "Hey, I love you, Deb." I was absolutely dumbfounded, not because he said "I love you", but because he hadn't said those words that meant so much to me my entire life. He wasn't a bad father - he was a great dad who always encouraged me and told me I was the best at what I did. He always said I should be doing something more profound with my life -- like become a famous movie star or cartoonist making millions. But, here I am, as my friend would put it, "small potatoes" living my life the best I can. His words still linger: "Ya' gonna be famous kid! Ya' too talented, I...