I’m sitting here looking at a picture of my papa. It’s so strange – he was here – on this earth. Breathing the air I breathe. Walking on the same pavements – smiling at the same people who are left here with me….for now.
I lost my papa in 2004. He passed away in his sleep. It was such a tragedy. We had no time to prepare for his death. Now, we know it was a blessing for him to go so quickly. He hated hospitals, sickness, weakness. It would have been terrible for him to linger with a chronic condition or a stroke.
But, on this rainy night, I remember him. All of his funny sayings. The way he would stand and walk. The way he would call “Patricia”. How he loved music and how he loved to dance. Thank goodness I believe and know I will see him again. I can’t imagine the devoid life of not believing and thinking “this” is all that there is to life. I can’t wait to ask my papa all of the things I thought I would have time to find out – what did he think the first time he saw my mama? Where were they? When he was shot in the war, who does he remember being with him? What hospital was he in? For how long? What was his favorite game as a little boy? What was his best Christmas gift? What did he wear on dates with my mama? Where did they go? What did they enjoy? What was his favorite memory as a young man?
If your papa is alive – give him a call on this cold rainy night. Just call and listen to his voice. Listen as if it might be the last time. You may hear things you never heard before.