Wednesday, December 02, 2009

More to this life than meets the eye

On Monday, my cousin Chuck passed away from cancer.  While I was traveling that day, I had a thought of him sitting on his boat in the waters near Key West grinning that grin he always kept around.  At the time, I wondered how he was getting along and moved on.

Though the miracle of Google alerts (I have one on my last name), I learned that next morning that Chuck was gone.   Because of my “vision”, I believe he really has gone fishing.  He probably takes my dad out with him from time to time.  I know my dad loved that man as much as anyone on this earth.  I’m sure they are happy to be back together.  I imagine his dog Leon, his sister Susan and his friend Shel are glad to see him again as well.  Susan was a gem of a person.  One of the kindest, bravest, funniest people I’ve ever known.  Chuck and Shel Silverstein were good buds down in Key West.  I was once fortunate to be visiting Chuck when Shel stopped by.  That was a treat.

The rest of this post may sound crazy or a bit creepy to some.  That’s fine.  I know from my FaceBook post yesterday that more than a few of us on this earth have felt the passing of loved ones from hundreds of miles away.  I’ve experienced it before and I’ve seen other evidence that I can’t ignore.  My rational side keeps me from reading too much into the phenomenon, but there is something there.  This post is about the most obvious of those events in my experience.

Way back in 1994, I was living in a little house on a very busy street in Charlotte to a woman who would only be my wife for another 18 months or so.  I had a new job with a major software company and on this night was sitting at the computer working hard on skills that I needed for my new job.

All of a sudden, my was-wife (she still calls me wasband) came into the room searching for something.  She actually seemed pretty desperate.  I asked and she explained that she wanted the picture of her father that used to be stuck in the corner of the mirror over her dresser.  I didn’t remember seeing the picture, but I pitched in to help anyway.  It didn’t take but a couple of minutes before she found the picture behind the dresser, took it and went back out of the room.  I had never seen her act that way before.  I’d soon find out why.

It was maybe 15 minutes later that the phone rang.  It was was-wife’s sister with news that their father had been found unconscious in his Delaware trailer and that an ambulance had been called.   Truth was that he had already passed.

There were no calls before this time.  We had no text or email or Twitter.  There was no way that my was-wife could have known, but she did.  She felt something and any amount of logic can’t explain it away.

So back to Tuesday.  I wasn’t too surprised that Chuck was gone.  I still don’t know what time he left this earth, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was around 2;30 eastern time.  If so, I appreciate that he would pay me a visit on his journey.  One day, I’ll understand what that journey is all about, but there is no hurry.  Until then, I’ll just keep my mind open to the possibilities and know that there is more to this world and this life than meets the eye.


Katitude said...

I've always believed that truth is much stranger than fiction.

There's a real life hug coming your way in about a week or so.

Special K said...

I'm looking forward to that.

glueShoe said...

That was so heart felt and profoundly moving I am compelled to share. I lost my father in JAX FL 2007, and this is what I wrote just before the funeral, but couldn't summon the strength to read aloud myself, so I asked the pastor to read it for me.

It is as though you are away
On the water
The outboard hammering
Over the waves

A squint fixed on the horizon
You chase the yellow sun on your face
One arm tans below the short sleeve
Another wrist wrests on the wheel

You spin a red jig head
Or electric chicken
Hoping to burn the drag

Father always
You cast beyond our scripture
Into dreams

The night you hooked the lip
Of our deepest unknown
We found

Leaving over the Hart bridge
Love in your wake
And memories for tomorrow

Special K said...


That is awesome. Thank you so much for sharing.