Putting in some long hours to finish out August sales and
prepare for September allocations, I turned off my computer and settled into
bed late on Sunday, August 30th.
As I fell asleep, Dad was on my mind as the end of summer always meant a
birthday dinner and the Labor Day weekend with him.
It wasn’t long before I was awakened by the strangest
sensation. Grief and sadness overcame me and I was crying in my sleep. But
that’s not what woke me up. It was the sensation of liquid in my ears. Tears
dropping and splashing in the pool of tears in my ears. My head was perfectly
positioned to catch the falling tears.
As I came to and realized that I was crying, sadness
overcame me. Gulping ugly cry. Trying my best to be very quiet about this to
not awaken James, I got myself under control. Missing Dad, wondering if he has
been watching how hard I have been working, I questioned, “would he be proud of
me?” Yes, coming up on 52 years on this beautiful earth, I still yearn for my
Dad’s acceptance and pride.
Now, this is where it gets a little “woo woo.”
I believe in spirits and that I have a few that hang out
with me. After Dad’s passing in 2010, I would smell cigarette smoke in a room,
or my car, or in the office. Not often, but noticed. And I’d look around to see
if someone had come in that had been smoking. If it were outside, I’d look for
a passerby smoking, or a car with the window rolled down. The smell would waft
by and dissipate. I decided this was Dad making an appearance and letting me
know he has my back.
When I awoke crying, I didn’t smell cigarette smoke.
Being introspective, I wanted to keep the moment between me and him, even
though there was no fragrance. I didn’t share what happened with anyone.
In the days that followed, I smelled cigarette smoke a
couple times in the backyard. I thought it was the neighbor based on where I am
working in the shed during the day.
I’ve told James and I think I’ve told Reyde about my
“smoking spirit.” I don’t really know what they believe. And really, it is a
little or a lot “woo woo”. It must have been a few weeks later, I was working
away in the shed and Reyde pops in and asked me if I smelled smoke. I said no
not right now, but I think it’s the neighbor. No, he says, Dad smelled it in
the trailer and so he wanted to know if you smell it now.
Nope. So now I wonder if Dad is hanging out with the
family? I don’t think about this further and go back to work. From time to time
I recall the sensation of tears splashing into the pools of liquid in my ears. In
the back of my mind, I am trying to figure out why the emotion hit so very hard
after a long day and night at work.
I’ve been very fortunate to participate in a business
leadership program that emphasizes long term personal development,
accountability, and understanding what your higher purpose is. Through the
course, we spent many hours learning about the way people speak and how you
think you are communicating clearly but the message is not heard. Language, how
you phrase things, tone of voice, intention, it all matters in communication.
Because of this gift of learning, I continued to ponder
on the question that came to mind when I awoke that night. Dad hanging out for
a few weeks made me think that I needed to figure out what all this meant.
It’s funny. In high school, I thought I’d go to college
and get a language degree and then work as a translator. Spanish was the
language I took and I thought I could really do something with that. Didn’t
work out. But what I do realize is that I am a translator. I just translate
English to English. Being blessed to have identified my higher purpose and be
able to embrace it and live it, I see the correlation with translating again. I help others discover their voices and
develop the courage to open their hearts. I help people connect their feelings,
verbalize their feelings so that they can understand how to better advocate
for themselves. Or simply give themselves grace during our incredibly difficult
year that 2020 has shaped up to be.
Wording, phrasing, language, it all matters. I finally
figured out why the emotion hit so very hard. Dad didn’t want me to question
anymore. The flood of emotion hit because he was telling me he is proud of me.
Of who I have become. Of how I continue learning just like he did.
Wendy, don’t question, “would I be proud of you?” Reframe
that into a statement, “Wendy I am proud of you.” I have to admit that when I
figured this out when I told myself the statement, instead of the question, I
know that’s why he stuck around.
Thanks, Dad. I surely needed your message.
