Friday, September 14, 2012


Last night I was minding my own business, sitting on the couch watching TV and all of a sudden I got hit with a vivid, almost life like vision of my father in his hospital room. I was remembering one of the days I visited him the weekend before he passed away. 

The memory was strong and like a vice grip on my heart. I tried to push it aside, but it was not having it. I finally just allowed myself to relive what little details I could remember from that day and embrace it. I cried, a little not sobs or heavy wails, but just enough. 

What I recall of that day in particular is coming to see him by myself while wearing a purple top and black skirt. We chatted for a bit and then the nurse came in to check his bandage. He had had his left leg amputated the week before. Up until this point I had not seen it and when I caught a glimpse I went pale and almost got sick. I sat in the bathroom while the nurse changed the dressing and when I was reassured that it was done, I emerged from the bathroom. 

I don't remember specific conversation, but I do remember standing on his left side at one point and his eyes welling up because we were talking about what he was going through. It broke my heart, and even now as I sit and type this the memory of his face in that moment kills me. 

I am not sure where it came from but I am having this need, this overwhelming need, to hear his voice. Perhaps it's because I can see his face so clearly, yet I can't seem to remember the sound of his voice as much as I would like. And I have nothing with his voice on it to even listen to, to fulfill that need. It's a need that will go unmet and it will forever gnaw at me. 

In this moment right now, I would love nothing more than to talk to or meet a medium. I know it's not for everyone, and not all people believe, but I do. I may be naive for thinking this but when I watch "Long Island Medium", I get chills watching her make connections for people. It's insane to me that she would know things  about total strangers that she does. I wish she lived closer, I would give almost anything to hear from my dad. There are so many things I would want to ask him.

We need memories. The good and the bad.  They are storytellers. I welcome this memory and any others that come my way. I need them. 


Are you grieving a lost loved one? Have you had strong memories come to you without being prompted? Would you talk to a medium???  

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