It’s been twenty-eight years since my dad, Sonny, died but he’s present in all the ways he can be – in my head and heart.
We had a thing for clouds, the two of us…
Two days after my dad’s death, hubby Paul and I were tasked with retrieving golf clubs and personal items from Sonny’s country club. We drove there in my dad’s beloved convertible, and I chose to stay in the car while Paul navigated the well-meaning, grief-stricken assemblage of folks who’d gathered, shocked and saddened – just like us.
Thoughtful Paul parked Sonny’s car in a distant location in the lot, facing a picturesque view past the ninth hole, overlooking a nearby mountaintop. Paul knew the outpouring of grief from others would be my undoing and a moment to collect my breath was welcome. Sonny’s passing was surreal and despite intellectually understanding the loss, I was incapable of processing the emotion. My dad was gone, but he’d been “gone” before. On trips and vacations, always returning, no matter what.
As I waited for Paul to return, I studied the approaching clouds – appearing abruptly, shrouding the mountain top in fluff. I heard my dad’s voice like a gentle echo in my head saying,
“Lookee there – that’s a pretty picture, isn’t it?”
Glancing toward the driver’s seat, I saw him. Mirrored shades, his heavily tanned face, turquoise golf shirt and white shorts. As if he’d just finished 18-holes – ready to head home.
“Remember I’m near…always in the clouds.”
My reverie ended and Paul was back, loading the trunk with golf clubs, shoes and gear, attended by a throng of Sonny’s golfing buddies, looking forlorn and lost.
These days if you catch me staring at the sky with a faraway gaze there’s a 99% chance I’m chatting with my dad. Reeling in the comfort and the nearness of him as he stirs up the sky.
On his birthday in December, I’m certain he sent a show – a murmuration of starlings on what would’ve been his 91st birthday. It was a sight to behold and free write poetry poured out of me:
The morning the starlings came
The tears came, too
Silent rivers on my cheeks
Incongruous comfort
Feeling the wonder
Embracing the memory of you
Conveyed in bird ballet
The morning the starlings came
Vicki 💝
I love reader input about my dad. He was quite a human. If you want to catch up, here’s a link to a few posts about him. He’d be pleased to meet you…I just know it.
Hi – I’m Victoria, Vicki, Dr. Vicki. I hold a doctorate in Adult Education and I’m a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC), and author of Surviving Sue | Eckhartz Press
Check out this link to learn more about my book “Surviving Sue” – all about resilience and love.
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Victoria Ponders 
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