For my dad.
Who passed away one year ago to this day.
March 15, 2021.
For my dad.
I just want to come along here and say how much I love him.
I love him still.
Of course.
When I was growing up, it was pretty much common for us to talk about the other worlds, the other realities, the higher realms, not just the physical world but the spiritual world … as if these realms were as available as going outside of a house. Because of this, the idea that I would not still love him or have a relationship with him or be close to him is ludicrous.
We had many, many psychic and metaphysical experiences that would become commonplace.
It was not outside the realm of reality to be able to have a psychic connection, speak without words, speak even with the physical distance. We had many experiences.
One of my favorites involved a friend of mine from high school back in 1981. In a conversation about her in our kitchen around 10 p.m., my father and I were silently attempting to connect with her, secretly wondering if she would call at this time. Now, having never called me before or after at my house, it would be impossible that Isabel would call at this late hour. What would be even more impossible would be her saying right after I answered the phone: “You have to stop thinking of me; I have to get some sleep.”
Oh, my dad.
He also loved to tell the story of Leviticus 5. He would talk of the time he was in deep prayer requesting an answer to the quandary regarding the world's cultural problems and environmental messes. He took a nap and awoke with the thought “Leviticus 5.” He knew which Bible to go to in order to see what it said. At the top of the page were the words: “Remove Unconscious Pollution.”
My dad told a lot of stories. And he knew he repeated a lot of them. I knew he knew because he shifted the way he would start one of those repeats. It went from “Did I ever tell you the time …” to “Hey, I told you the time that …” Now even though he had told the story previously, it would not mean that he wouldn’t retell it. He loved his stories. I think they comforted him. They brought him joy.
He did enjoy certain aspects of life...
- The trips with the family in the summer months, to the likes of Sea World, Knotts Berry Farm, Marineland and Disneyland.
- His family … though he would most likely not tell any of us directly but brag to others outside of the family.
- The rooting on of the Rams, Red Wings, Tigers, Lions, Dodgers, Lakers, Angels.
- The “picks” where he would enroll all the family members to guess which football teams would win each week.
- The lottery and trips to Vegas, and his winnings there.
- His bowling and the winning there.
- The dining outings with his wife, my mother.
- His meditation and the peace that came from this practice.
- The Home Prairie Companion radio show, and all the cassette tapes he’d make of that show plus the talk shows that touched on the political and the metaphysical.
- The talks about the synchronicities in life.
- His work with Farmers Insurance when he got to use his intuition to work in the Fraud Department.
- His work in helping to uncover the murderer of a daughter of famous author Lois Duncan.
- The adventure of investigating the mysteries of the untold.
Over his life he would dig into a few of those “conspiracy theories” that weren’t really “theories” but coverups he had to uncover. I think he had to do such research just to be released from the rotten emotions that arise when you are being lied to.
The JFK murder was his big one. I was 19 days old when JFK was assassinated in broad daylight publicly, in Dallas, Texas. That would mean for my entire life I would be taught two major lessons:
- Do not trust the government or the media.
- Search for your own truth.
Now, even with his inspiring and uplifting times, there were certain aspects of life he didn’t seemed to like. He hated conflict, any kind of conflict.
He so disliked conflict that he would eat the wrong food that was mistakenly served to him at restaurants. He didn’t like taking too long in a drive-thru since he didn’t want to take up other people’s time. He couldn’t stay for the ending of those real nail-biters of sports games; too much to take! He also freaked out a bit about having a Christmas tree in his trunk on the way home from the lot, thinking some calamity might happen. Not sure what bad could befall Christmas trees in trunks. But he was concerned about it.
With all his fears and concerns, the amazing thing was how much faith he still held. He knew the good was so much bigger than any bad. It was a faith built on experience; a faith built on spiritual connection. At one point in late 1959, he had no clue what would happen after losing his job and learning that his wife was expecting their first child. He would think “How is this going to work?”
But he knew it would work out, and with his famous phrase “The universe is perfect,” things would fall into place for him. As they would for his family for as long as they are family.
My dad.
This was written for my dad.
He is the most generous man I’ve ever met. He gave without needing anything back. And he gave even without the need to feel good about giving. It was just that natural for him. The most selfless person I know.
Last year, we would have no service for him. I’m sure that’s how he would have it. No big fanfare. No big presentation or focus.
It would be enough to continue with this never-ending, always-expanding life, discovered in the higher realms, beyond the physical, of which he already knew, so well.
It would be enough to have lived a life, living on his terms, embracing his beliefs as he did, cheering on his teams, picking his picks, watching from a distance the progress of his children, telling his stories, and leaving behind a legacy of three blessed ones, who he just wanted to be happy.
On so many levels, I am happy.
But I wouldn’t have that happiness, nor have this drive, nor this identity as a searcher, if it weren’t … for my dad.
My dad.
I love my dad.
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