His advice from beyond the veil

As I slept peacefully, I found my old 1967 Mustang. This car had been the pride of my young life. I had paid $2800. for her with a mere 500 miles on her 287 engine. Her two-tone blue leather seats and automatic stick shift kept a smile on my face as I rode along in that flashy new sports car painted an exciting metallic blue. The new leather smell was absolutely intoxicating.

I traded her in in 1973 for a family car, a Plymouth Satellite. But it was the ’67 Ford Mustang that stole my 18 year-old heart and never really released it.

So there I was with my found jewel. My ’67 Mustang. I took my younger sister for a ride. We were both very excited, though my Mustang was in sad shape. She was rusted all around the edges. The engine ran, but roughly. The blue carpet was in good shape, though dusty and faded.

I drove to where my Dad was. He had loved the car, too. I couldn’t wait to show him my find.

He sat beneath the wheel and took a spin with us. Though I must admit, it was not the ride he had taken fifty-two years ago when he took her up to 120 mph on I-95 before I, clutching my throat, begged him, “Slow down, Daddy, please!”

So in this dream of mine, my night-time visit with Dad, coasted to a stop as I asked him, “So what do you think, Dad? Do you think she would be worth investing some money into fixing her up?” When he didn’t answer right away, I prodded him. “Should I look into having her restored?”

“It depends on how much you want it,” he looked at me seriously.

So this was his advice.

I woke up realizing, as much as the car used to please me. It would not be the same today. I would not invest a lot of time and money attempting to make something old new. Something which even if it were right off the assembly line would not thrill me as it did back in the day.

But Dad’s advice keeps rolling around in my head. “It depends on how much you want it.” That was his advice from his side of the veil to my side here among the living on planet Earth. Even though he passed-on nearly seven years ago, my Dad’s advice is still spot-on and I would do well to heed it.

What do I want enough to put my all into it, at this stage of the game?

My writing career! So, here I am Dad, giving it my all…

Struggling With the Loss

I’m afraid I now sit in the seat (once again) of my reader. I am struggling with the loss of a loved one. This time it is my husband’s daughter. His first born.

Waiting for a visit is always difficult, after a loss. This wait seems particularly difficult. My husband has been through several catastrophes recently. I am filled with anxiety watching him try to weather another storm in his life. If only I could tell him, I’ve seen her. I’ve talked with her. She is fine. She is happy!

We pray for her every day. I talk to her every night, before I sleep. I invite her visit, but leave the choice with her.

It seems that while I wait each night for her visit, other passed loved ones, flit in and out of my dreams. However, nothing of any seeming significance. Perhaps they are simply like the TV announcer telling us to tune in again tomorrow night, same time, same station.

So here I shall be, struggling with the loss, hoping and waiting for that special first visit from her since her passing.

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