theairborneangel
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I held this space for my dad to show up. He knows I have been mourning him. A delay, perhaps, because the signs and synchronicities, after his re-emergence, where everywhere. Not so much to prove to me he still exists in the ubiquitous ether. Not at all, it was more him knowing that I was an open channel for connection.
It’s difficult for their energy to reach the mourning when Earth’s ceiling equals Heaven’s basement, vibrationally, and human emotions are in a terrestrial sinkhole. They don’t force emotional alignments of frequencies…as there is no assertion in an attraction based universe.
Knowing this, I went to the roof when he died. After awhile, however, I found myself in the kitchen. Too often. Feeding my feelings. No matter how much you know that they are still around, a physical hug is still a physical hug.
I needed a hug and he did his best:
Spring Surprise, 2023: Cheer Up, Champ
Tag 1: Where Best Friends Are Made. Stuffed with Hugs and Good Wishes. Tag 2: Certified asthma and allergy friendly! 😂
My dad was not a giver. However, there are two gifts that I remember. The first was my class ring. It was a dainty, 10k gold beauty with a sapphire in its center and two small diamonds seated at an angled across from each other. It had the year of graduation, 1986, split on each side of the band along with music and cheerleading symbols adorning it. My full name was engraved on the inside. I forgot and wore it to a game and we weren’t allowed to wear jewelry while cheering. That night was a lesson in how naive I can be. A friend “lost” it along with a modest Sweet 16 ring and bracelet my mother had bought me. It still breaks my heart to think about the circumstances. Particularly finding out, I wasn’t alone in “losing” valuable things in her proximity. These were extreme luxuries to my family. Her family was extremely well off. I still don’t understand why she did it. But, ultimately, I blamed myself. Dad was mostly out of the picture by then. He was still very much around when he gave me Sammy.
Summer Surprise, 1982: Cheer Camp
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I ask my dad if he wants to join me at the movies to give me a sign. Nabbing a protein bar at a nearby grocery store to sneak into the theater, this is what I’m given. I have no idea what the person’s singing but I think I hear pregunta, and take it as a si.
It’s not until I get home that I realize I bought his ticket and I got in free!
A little backstory blurb. The last time I was there, I had to show my ID bc they were refunding me tickets after his grandson refused to sit through Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio. I think it scared him. Rushing today, I just absently drew out my ID and debit card. The kid behind the screen looks at it, then at me and chuckles while sliding back through the window. I think nothing of it, take the ticket, and enjoy the movie. Now, I realize he gave me the senior discount though I’m not yet at the age. Sooner than later, though. 😅 Too funny. Yeah, he let me hustled him out of $2.00. Well played, Poppi.
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His words to have had… 😭
I’ve been asked often why I didn’t fight for the obscene amount of wealth—that will never be acknowledged—I helped to create. It is a very simple answer. I had already put the children through the marriage. I wasn’t going to put them through the divorce. When you know how someone fairly or unfairly fights, it’s not a difficult decision.
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Dad,
Thank you for bringing these two incredibly beautiful women into my life. We love and miss you.
🤍
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It’s also a day to celebrate.
But how rude, Dad!
I sense she takes his passing on her birthday as just typical Nick: middle child, only son. He got away with sh*t his sisters wouldn’t have. It was a pattern. He never really grew up and they had to grow up fast, it seems. Grandma once told me she had spoiled him too much. Blaming herself for his behavior was her way of apologizing for his absence at a critical time.
Dad: Why you gotta bring that up!
Haha…
Nevertheless, my aunt is happy and healthy at 74. Besides my uncle’s funeral, all of my memories are of her laughing and enjoying life.
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Sisters
November 2011
If this photo were film, after having it processed, he would had written on it our names, the date, and how old we were at the time.
It was so effortlessly artistic, his penmanship. I miss it. I miss him. I’m not alone in my grief. And we are not alone, today, with his spirit all around us. I can feel him in the breaths between my tears.
#%&! I wish I could talk to him. I hear his voice in my mind more often than a sane person is supposed to, I think.
One reason I love thrifting is it can be low maintenance but, the other day, I can’t find what I need so retail it is. I buy shelves that need assembling. At home, I’m in a wtf instruction zone. I cry out for deliverance and I *hear* him say: put the instructions aside and study the photo.
It all connected. 🕊🤍
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I went looking for a bottle of wine, tonight. I don’t drink but thought I’d have it on hand for friends dropping in. And there was dad clos by—typo, intended—with his 2020 vision, congratulating me for finally keeping my ass in the chair. His significant—somewhat of a wine connoisseur—recently asked for a copy of the play he loved. I sent it to her thanking her for caring and thought about how little importance I put on his encouragement and how I put too much importance on a person constantly putting me down as a writer. It would take years to realize they never wanted me to be successful. But, dad did. So, what I’m writing now is hard because I have tapped into the reasons I dismissed his encouragement and the judgement, though valid, that held us apart for so many years. Years wasted. I know he’s near, now. Strangely, nearer than was possible when alive. So I write while feeling him cheering me on…
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Happy Birthday, Dad! We’re celebrating you. Here. There. Everywhere. 🎉🎂🥳🎈
Miss you so much!!! 🕊🤍
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