Ghosts.. friendly and otherwise...

My dad tells me he has been visited by mother, and far be it for me to argue this. I'm a bit saddened that she has not visited me, but perhaps he needs more than I do now. Years and years ago, I was visited by by grandmother - my mother's mother. She sat on the end of my bed, reached over and touched my foot. She told me I was going to be fine, happy, and loved. It was a time when I wondered if my life was going to get better or worse. She reassured me that it was an adventure, and without a doubt she was correct. I have not seen her since, though a friend told me that my dad's mom was looking over me one day not long ago. I didn't feel her presence, and quite honestly that spooked me a little. Although in hindsight, I can see that she and I were a lot more alike than I thought; I never knew that while she was alive. In fact, she scared me - most of the time. 

Now, here we are. This is not the first time my dad has mentioned a visit by my mom. The first time was shortly after her death. He said she had come to him at night and told him that she was at peace. It made him feel better. It made him feel that all was well. Since then he has spoken of how hard it is to be the survivor. Even in his mind he had determined that despite evidence to the contrary, that he was more more likely to be the first to go. After all, statistically, women outlive men. He has said that in a perfect world, couples who had been together as long as they had been would also die together. It rang bells of old Egypt and ancient worlds.. the ones where a spouse was disposed of when her husband died so that both would travel to the next world together. I get that. I understand that. I agree with his premise that it is vastly unfair for him to be expected to go it alone after all those years together. My dad and mom were together forever. They met in high school. They left their homes to be man and wife. Neither of them have ever lived alone. Marriage, children, family. How does one learn to be alone after 64 years? Heck, I have issues with that after months of being with someone else. I cannot imagine adjusting after all those years. My mother and father were devoted to one another.. we, the children, came second. As it should be.

This last visit was about two weeks ago. She and he were in the sun room, looking at her Christmas Cactus, in full bloom. She did not have her oxygen tubes; she did not look like she was in pain. Then, he and she moved to the living room, where she knelt to pet the dog. My dad says he reached down to massage her shoulders and to help her up. She leaned back into him, and then turned.. to poke him in the chest. She looked him in the eye and said "Not yet!".  
 
He woke to a feeling of pain. In his chest. He sat up in bed and stayed there for a while, wondering what she meant.. not yet.. he shouldn't give up yet? He wasn't to join her yet? He had been on a dating site, looking for company - a woman to share time with, to talk to, to have dinner with.. did she mean no dating yet? I wonder of the chest pain is something I should worry about.. did my dad have a small heart attack? He has seen his cardiac doctor recently and was deemed in good shape.. but still... 

On the one hand, it is not my business.. my dad's health belongs to him. I am his child, not his keeper. On the other hand, I feel a sense of responsibility. I told my mom I would look after him, make sure he is ok after her passing. I wonder about his visits with my mom's spirits. I am not a religious person, but I am also not arrogant enough to believe I know all, or even some of what happens when the body dies. I do know this, though: I love my father. I want him to be at peace and to be happy - most of the time. No one can be happy all of the time, and I know how hard it is to adjust to being alone again after a relationship - and none of mine has ever been as long as theirs was. I also know I am not ready to give him up yet. I want to know more about my dad. I want time with him - time to know him and for him to know me.  

But, I also know this is not my call. Perhaps it is not even his. 

As always, 

A. Tan Gledmess