Do You Believe?

OK, what I'm about to say right now may come as a bit of a shocker to some of you out there--I don't believe in an afterlife. Please note the emphasis on the word believe. That is, I don't believe in it in the sense of having faith that something exists even though you can't see it or hear it or touch it. I don't believe in an afterlife because I know with certainty it does exist. I believe in it the way I believe in the sun. In fact, I regularly communicate with any number of folks who have "crossed over." Its been that way ever since I was a kid. I remember the day my Mother came to tell us kids my Grandfather Gensel had passed away. We were playing in one of the bedrooms when Mom came to give us the news. My response was, "I know." When she asked how I knew, I said he'd just been there, in the bedroom, to tell me. He had told me he had to go away, but he wanted me to know that he'd always be watching out for us kids.

Mom, who came from a very fundamentalist Christian background, instructed me I was to never, ever tell anybody I had seen or talked to a dead person. So for many, many years, I didn't. It hasn't been all that long ago that I confided this to a couple of very close people, only to find they did exactly the same thing! And I don't think it was a coincidence that I chose these two people to discuss this particular "ability" with.

One of these two people (whom I won't "out" in this blog) knew my Father and his mother, my Grandmother Gensel. One of the most interesting things I learned was that neither of us had ever had any contact with either one of them after they had passed. Just nothing. Whenever I thought of either of them, there was just a cold emptiness in my mind. Not that I ever found that a bit surprising. These two individuals were like two peas in a pod. Both totally self-centered. The only people either of them ever loved was themselves.

In a rather odd twist of fate, they shared the same birthday of February 14th. That's right, Valentine's Day. And wouldn't you think that any mother whose first child had been born on that day would have said it was the greatest combination birthday and Valentine's Day gift they could have ever gotten? Not her. Oh, no sir! Her only feeling about it as I heard her say many a time was to complain about how long she'd been in labor and how she'd had to miss her own birthday because of it. Anyway, Dad was just like her. I once described to a therapist how Dad never seemed to get joy out of anything in his life. Not ever. Nothing he did or ever had seemed to give him one moment of pleasure. I absolutely cannot think of a more miserable way to live an entire life. But that's how he lived his. Plus, the man was just plain mean. He never once gave a thought to anyone else's wants or needs. The only thing of interest to him was what he wanted.

But wait, I can do better than this in describing him. Do you remember the TV show M*A*S*H? Anybody remember the character Frank Burns? Well, I have always been convinced that character was actually based in large part on my father. The only difference between Frank and my father was that Frank was married and Dad wasn't during his time as a surgeon's assistant with a MASH unit in the Korean War. Yep, that's right. Dad was there. Whoever developed that character, I am certain, knew my Dad in Korea!

Perhaps its not too surprising, then, that I don't often think about him. Which makes this morning a real exception to the rule for me. I'm not exactly sure how it all got started. I was washing dishes before going to work this morning. Since that's a pretty mindless task, I was thinking about other things, beginning with what I wanted to have to drink with my breakfast. I had settled on Chai tea. I have a Keurig brewer and keep a large variety of K-cup options on top of my refrigerator.

Then I got thinking about the few things Dad had taught me (a) on purpose and (b) that were positive influences in my life. You see, Dad taught me lots of things by accident by being the negative of the lesson such as the great joy of music, giving to charities, and trying to deal fairly with other people even if I don't know them. But the number of purposeful and positive items can be counted on the fingers of one hand--how to drive a car well, how to ride a horse, and good table manners. And so I gave a silent "Thank You!" to my Dad this morning for these things, two of which have stood me in good stead throughout my life. I think I'll let you guess which two. LOL!

And just as I had that thought, I kid you not, the box of Chai tea K-cups came flying off the fridge and onto the floor. As I had just turned to look for any other dirty dishes on the counter, I got a good look at it as it came off. I was so totally convinced a cat must have shoved it off, I got up on the step stool and picked up every box looking to find one of them hiding back there. But no. Nor could that box have just toppled off. It sits well back on the fridge. Nearly half-way back and with other boxes on either side of it. And with seven different varieties up there, the one I had just decided to have for breakfast is the one that comes whizzing off? Nope, that's just not a coincidence in my book. That was definitely Dad.

And maybe, just maybe, I told myself as I pulled out one K-cup and put the box back on the fridge, he's learning how to think of someone else for a change and was trying to be helpful. Maybe there's hope for him yet!