Dreams

I read a book a few months ago that I got to thinking about last night.

The book itself was kind of awful; it was about a woman with not a lot of sense and a lot of kids, and her misadventures. It was written in what I suppose was meant to be humor but it fell flat-- it was one of the few books in my life that I didn't actually finish.

What I took away from it was something I didn't even realize had made an impression on me; the protagonist's Mom had passed some time earlier and sent her messages via songs stuck in her head. She'd wake up with "Can't Hurry Love" or some other catchy tune in her head, as a message from her Mom from beyond.

It sounds silly, but I think if I could wish for anything at all, I would wish for Dad to communicate with me in a similar manner.

Music was always our language-- that, and sarcasm.

I miss him in about a million different ways but the strongest one is often when I open my mouth to sing; a reflex, I don't even realize I'm doing it 90% of the time. Washing dishes, driving, working, mowing the yard, on the phone-- someone says a phrase that's in a song and it's oh, here, let me serenade you.

I sang with my Daddy for 28 years; the past 2 months and 27 days have been a serious adjustment.

I suppose it's wishful thinking but I'm just saying-- is there an internet connection in Heaven, Daddy-o?-- I won't be upset if I wake up tomorrow with Love Train stuck in my head.