Hi Dad

It's human nature to apply human characteristics to things which are not human. I think that's called anthropomorphism (what a great word!). You know what I mean; like identifying the man on the moon, or seeing the Blessed Virgin Mary in a toasted cheese sandwich.

Humans think they are so superior. It's all about us.

Sometimes though, it's all about ME. Just go look at my URL name. I'm sufficiently self-absorbed that I take anything even remotely within my periphery and discern how it affects me. ME ME ME.

So now you have some background.

I miss my Dad. He died January 10, 1995 and I think about him every day. I sure could have used his unexampled strength, love and support during the last 13 years. I've had some rough moments.

He has 'allegedly' appeared in one form or another to certain family members at different times. Dreams, visions. Even once, when we were burying him in May, he physically showed himself to my then-husband. Smiled at him, appeared sad that my kids were crying, walked over in his unique bow-legged walk and stood next to my Mom.

Yeh. Thanks for making an appearance Dad. To the EX. Whatever.

But he does come to me. And in ways that I think make him smile, because Dad was a joker and he loved a good laugh and he knows I'd get it. And just to get back a little of my own, I think of him most powerfully when I drive by a farm and smell manure. If I smell silage or freshly cut grass for hay I think of him too, but mostly Dad, you smell like crap. Heheheheheheheh.

He's surprised me too. On the day of my son's wedding, I was driving to the church when Roger Whittaker came on the radio singing "The Last Farewell". I haven't heard that song in many years. I think Dad was just letting me know he was around and that he was at my son's wedding. I started to tear up, but didn't want to ruin my makeup. He had made me so happy.

Lately, I've had rather a lot to think about too. And as is my habit, while driving in to work, I tuned into Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen's Life is Worth Living on EWTN. Bishop Sheen was a favorite of Dad's and mine; 15 or 20 years ago, we had a few sets of his talks on tape and we would see who had memorized the most. It made us laugh to recite long passages of his tapes together. Yeah, I know. Who does that?

And this morning Bishop Sheen recited a favorite poem of ours from all those years ago. I recited a specific passage with him (stunned that it all came back so easily), and could almost hear Dad reciting it with me. So Hi Dad. :) Enjoyed the shout out today. I love you.

This is for Pah. An excerpt from "The Hound of Heaven" by Francis Thompson:

"Strange, piteous, futile thing !

Wherefore should any set thee love apart ?

Seeing none but I makes much of naught" (He said),

"And human love needs human meriting :

How hast thou merited --

Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot ?

Alack, thou knowest not

How little worthy of any love thou art !

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,

Save Me, save only Me ?

All which I took from thee I did but take,

Not for thy harms,

But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.

All which thy child's mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home :

Rise, clasp My hand, and come !"

Halts by me that footfall :

Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly ?

"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

I am He Whom thou seekest !

Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest me."