It hit me today unexpectedly, and with the sudden force of a freight train.

I was sitting there, in my parents’ house, having coffee with my mother.  I had spent the night, and I was enjoying a cozy and relaxed morning in my pajamas.

She pointed to an enlarged photograph behind me on the wall and said, “I should probably change that to something more recent. Will was only five in that picture….so it is more than a decade old…but, it was your father’s favorite….”

Your father’s favorite.

That’s all it took to knock the wind out of me.

It surprised me, for I think about my father every single day, but lately it hasn’t rattled me as often…not like this. If anything, I have found a new way to be with him. I have been talking to him a lot. Of course, he probably thinks I only call on him when I need something…

Typical kid.

Okay, fine…maybe praying for him to let me make it to the gas station on fumes was kind of an abuse of his potential on the other side (although I did make it…thanks Dad).

Back to this morning…

Your father’s favorite.

There I was…about to dissolve into a puddle. For a panicked second I considered making a dash for the bathroom before the floodgates opened. I thought I should protect my mother from my pain…she doesn’t need this…not right now with all of her worries, but…

It was too late.

“What did I say?” she asked, “Is it…Dad?”

I nodded my head yes. “Sometimes I just expect him to come walking around the corner,” I said, tears streaming down. “I wish he were here right now.”

I know what you mean,” she said, gently. “I still think it’s him whenever the phone rings, or whenever someone pulls into the driveway.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the small death she must feel every single time she remembers that isn’t possible.

He’s gone.

As if reading my thoughts she said, “He’s still very much here.”

My mind flashed back to a conversation we’d had a few months after he died. Trying to comfort her, I had said that very thing – “He is still here.”

Somewhat angrily (and justifiably so) she’d replied, “What good is it for him to be “here” if he can’t be HERE?!”

I felt a slight sense of relief; glad that she has since found some peace within his transition into spirit.

I wondered what it was like –  to live with a ghost.

Then I realized, I already knew.

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