I’ve never considered myself an overtly religious person. It’s not that I begrudge other people of their beliefs; it’s just that I’ve never really had a clear sense of what my own beliefs actually were. I have a pretty strong moral compass, sure, but things like God and prayer have never really come easily to me.
That’s not to say that I don’t wonder about it all. Because I do. It’s something I’ve wondered about a lot since my father died.
I’m always hearing these stories about people who receive all these sorts of signs from their departed loved ones. Eerie coincidences. Ghostly occurrences. Even, in extreme cases, visions. It was all so comforting to them and seemed to bring them so much peace. They weren’t frightened or scared; they truly felt their loved one’s presence at the exact time they needed it.
But I haven’t really felt my father’s presence at all. Not in any sort of way that matters, at least. There have been a few times where the lights have flickered, but that’s it. It’s never been anything more than that. For all intents and purposes, it’s like he’s disappeared from my life. And that hurts more than I probably want to admit. Where is he? Where did he go? I want to feel like he’s with me and that there’s still that connection there because sometimes, it starts to feel like there’s nothing left at all. It would be unbelievably comforting to get some sort of sign from him.
It’s not like I haven’t been looking because I have been — all over the place, actually. I look for him in that way you look for someone that you desperately miss — you look for any sign of them, even in the most random of places. I know looking probably won’t turn up anything, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping my eyes peeled all the time. And honestly, my eyes are growing very tired. They need to rest.
Or maybe I need to rest. It can be hard to tell the difference between the two sometimes. All I know is that I miss my father. And I wish I felt him with me more than I do right now.
[Photo via We Heart It]