Thoughts of My Father

So much has happened this year. So much good and so much… no I can’t say bad cuz in my mind at this moment nothing is bad. Not when you look at the BIG picture; life is good, great in fact, divine. The gift of life is so great that even if a terrorist came and blew me up right now it could not change the divine nature of existence. It would not change the fact that my life is a gift ~ even to have it taken away. In the VERY BIG picture I feel that the nature of a thing should be determined by its consequence or its ability to either block or support the divine flow of the universe.  Could a terrorist block the flow of the universe by blowing my up?  No… only alter its flow; a bolder in the stream of life. Does it hurt if you slam into that boulder?   God yes.  Is there pain and confusion and sorrow and loss?  Yes.  Are these bad things ~ or just the consequence of the divine flow of the universe being altered?  Just thinking out loud. I know that the divine flow of love (big bang expansion of the universe – source of life) always has me, dead or alive, and will carry me past the boulders that I inevitably must crash into. Especially when I surrender to its constant flow and trust in its nature.  My energy cannot be destroyed only transformed.  Within that knowledge, "bad things" take on a different perspective.  They are my teachers and my challengers, helping me to be smarter, stronger,bringing me closer to my divine nature.   But it doesn't mean I like it.  I sometimes ask "Do I have to do this today?" 



Before I talk about the rest of my year so far I have to talk about the most important and far-reaching boulder I just crashed into. My father passed away on May 22nd.   The consequence of this thing continues to unfold for me and I know now that it will never stop. My heart and mind are learning a great lesson from this.  I don’t know how to write about it, if I try to think about what to write in advance.  So I will just put down what comes, as it comes. 
 
Oh this is hard. The child in me is afraid. It’s like getting lost at the circus. Suddenly all the fun stuff  around you isn’t fun any more. Nothing matters except being found and having your hand taken by that familiar loving presence. Here though, you realize that you are not going to be found by the one you are looking for ever again.  There is panic and there is grief. But then, softly as a whisper of love there is the realization that they never truly leave your side, that they are apart of you forever.  You trust that you can find your own way home and you can breathe again.  It is a brief respite in the waves of grief but it is there and it comes more often with time.  Where does this moment of peace come from?  I believe it is wired into us. Death is a part of life.  We must all grieve at some point. Perhaps we will be lucky enough not to have too much grief.  But there is some form of it in all our lives even if it is not death itself.  And everyone who has ever lived has experienced it.  Like the other traits we have passed down to our off spring – shock, and other forms of protection help us get through.  My point  here is: fear not - we were made to handle this and we can as long as we trust in the tools that are our divine inheritance.  And then there is each other. Oh my tribe… where would I be without you?
 
My Father Richard B Doss was a very special man in many ways to many folks. To me he was special because he was my father and he cared about me. He cared about me even though he didn’t relate to my lifestyle very well or agree with my hippie perspective at all. And even though he didn’t understand or agree with my choices at times, he understood me, better than I think I ever wanted to admit.  We were further apart in age than most of my peers and their fathers.  We were even further apart in worlds.  But he was always quick to to offer help and advise when I needed it.  He wasn't east to understand at times but  he was always generous and kind to me, always. 
 
“Nobody didn’t like Dick Doss”  A friend of my fathers said at his internment.  He was not a music lover but he did sing in a barber shop quartet in College.  He loved remembering that in his last years.  He didn’t talk much about his personal feelings but he did like to talk about you.  If you look closely, you could notice him observing you while you talked to him.  Then he would ask you a question to try and get you to come to a particular conclusion without telling you directly what that conclusion was.  It was his way of helping you learn or to realize something on your own.   I don’t remember him being as passionate about anything as he was about helping people make a better way in their life. As a management consultant it was his business and he was very good at it.  He had a gift for it. 
 
I remember him blowing up his cheek for me to kiss when he would come home from work. I remember him watching sports and the news on TV with a martini in his hand.  I remember him laughing and joking about how old he was getting when he would get up from his chair with exaggerated stiffness. I remember him bitching about the way my mother spent money.  I remember him mowing the lawn, and working in the garage and saying to me “You can help by staying out of the way.”  I remember him giving me a dollar to put in the collection plate at church (even this year – it was a thing he liked to do no matter how old I was). In his later years I remember taking his arm so that I could walk along with him, at his pace, because I knew I would not get to walk next to him for much longer.  I started writing down his stories and saving his phone messages no matter how mundane. And in the hospital I told him over and over and over “I love you Dad”
 
It’s all over too soon, no matter how much time there is.  But I had the chance to say what I wanted to say to him. and he had the chance to talk to all of us.  I know how lucky that is.  He did not suffer long and that is another blessing.  Thank you God for taking him quickly.
 
“Where are YOU?”  was the first question he would always ask me when I would call. I am here Dad.  Where are you?  I want to reach across the universe and find him.  I don’t want him to go, and yet, if I think about the time he was here in the flesh I remember how distant we really were.  Regardless his presence in my life was a comfort I don't think I will ever get used to being without.   I like to think if he sees me now, from his spirit perspective ~ it is possible for him to understand his crazy androgynous spiritual hippie gypsy musician daughter in a way he never may have before. I think when we drop our earthy robe we also leave behind the judgments that do not serve our heavenly being.  I know he is there, shiny, happy, free of pain.  I have no doubt of the eternal nature of spirit, but it is another thing to understand the details and the mathematics of what our energy does when we leave our bodies behind. I know without a doubt that I can talk to him and tell him everything like I never did before. And I do.  And I sense that he hears me. Not like on the phone, but he hears.  I love you Dad. Thank you <3 

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