Heaven Calling

One evening last week the phone rang.  We were all upstairs where we do not have a working phone line so no one was in a hurry to see who was calling. Except for Ella, that is - who bounded down the stairs to catch a glimpse of the caller id, an inexplicably fun past time for the kids who get a big kick out of shouting "Unavailable!" or "Unknown Name!"  Ella came back moments later and breathlessly announced "It's Poppy's name on the phone!", to which I replied that it was my mom calling.  She paused for a moment, then said "Oh.  I thought maybe heaven was calling for us."

Wouldn't that be something?  A phone line to heaven.  Speak to your deceased loved ones whenever you like. What a concept.  My pink doodle pad is like a line to heaven, except the messages only go one way.  The return calls are a bit difficult to recognize.  I'm realizing that calls from heaven don't come over the phone line, but they come in more subtle ways.

About halfway through my dad's funeral back in October, my mother's phone began to ring.  Unfortunately the ringer was set on high volume and the refrains of "Wasting away again in Margaritaville" played for several awful seconds until my mom finally found her phone and turned it off.  We all nudged each other and tried not to giggle as we all thought the same thing -  "Tato must be calling."  About fifteen minutes later, MY phone started ringing - this time it was the "Cantina" song from the original Star Wars movie - you know, the bar scene with all the creatures, a scene my Dad especially liked.  It took even longer for me to shut my phone off since it was buried in a bag a row behind me and I had to frantically motion to John to dig it out and hand it to me.  Again, giggles were stifled as we imagined my Tato looking down at us with a sneaky grin.

In the weeks that followed my mom reported that for three or four mornings in a row, her radio alarm would go off and the same song would be playing - "God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy" - one of my dad's favorite songs.  The same song would come on the radio while I'd be driving between appointments.  It also played on my iPod as I neared the finish line of a 5K that I ran in December - all opportune moments when it seemed likely that Tato would be watching over us.  Coincidences? Perhaps, but it's nice to think that there are larger forces at work.

I've been told by a good friend of mine who has lost both parents that he has had vivid dreams in which his parents appeared to him and spoke to him.   In one particular dream they told him how much they loved him and missed him and that they would be waiting for him when his time came.  I've been waiting for a dream like that for months.  I had one strange dream where I kept seeing my dad out of the corner of my eye, but when I would try to follow him he would go through a door into another room and I could never catch up to him.

About a week or two ago my sister reported having a dream about him, a dream so real that it took her a few moments upon waking to realize she'd been asleep.  In the dream she saw my dad.  She was able to hug him and talk to him, but she said he didn't say much to her.  She said he seemed very relaxed and that he wasn't wearing any shoes.

A few nights ago I finally had a dream about him.  At first he was standing in the doorway, holding some type of box, gesturing with his hands and rolling his eyes about something.  I suddenly realized that I was dreaming and I jumped up and ran to him, realizing this was my chance to hug him and talk to him just like my sister had.  He was standing nice and tall, holding his head high, wearing jeans, brown shoes and a multi-colored button down short-sleeved shirt he used to like to wear at the beach.  I gave him a big hug and just stood there for a minute, feeling the bulk of him.  He was no longer skinny  like he was when he was sick and I still knew I was dreaming and wanted it to last forever.  Then I looked at him and told him I missed him and he said he missed me too, but said nothing else.  I tried to ask him questions about heaven, the afterlife, etc. - but the dream began to fade into something else and eventually I woke up.

I hope I get more calls from heaven - more favorite songs playing at curious moments, more funny moments we know he'd get a kick out of, more dreams, more subtle signs that he's here, just not HERE.