Beyond the Grave?

Okay, so maybe all this grief and loneliness is finally messing with my head, but I swear my Dad told me he loved me yesterday morning, right as I was taking a crap. Good thing I was busy with my bid-ness at the time, otherwise I might've jumped up and ran, had I not been, how should I say it? tied to the throne?

Let me pause here and catch you up a little on the back story...

Gee and I like to have a radio in the bathroom, mood music.
I usually listen to Rock 101 or the Fox, but over the last few weeks, my radio's been giving me nothing but static. Frantically dialing through radio space, I found one, count it, one radio station that I could make out. I don't know the station, I've never heard the call letters but its okay. A lot of rap, J-lo, and Brittany. For full time listening, not so much my thing. To take a whiz or worse with, not so bad. Anyhoo The past two days I couldn't even coax 50 cent out of my boom box, and gave up trying.

Yesterday morning, I'm sitting there feeling all sad and sorry for myself, and suddenly remember a conversation I had with my Dad about unconditional love. For many years my father had some sad beliefs about love.

He didn't believe in unconditional love, and (it's my opinion) that lack of belief set him up for additional anxiety he did not, nor should have, had to deal with. He was always afraid that his affliction, as he put it, would eventually drive his family from him. Every time he had a fight with my Grandma he thought, that's it, she'll never love me again, and would call me for comfort. I spent hours talking to him over a period of a year about this. We discussed his every objection to believing in unconditional love. I think I did a pretty good job of rebutting his yes, but's.

Example, he said the love he had for his wife wasn't unconditional, nor hers for him because they seperated.
I knew he still loved her, and she him, gosh everyone knew that. I reminded him what we all knew. He agreed, "But" said, "If it was unconditional we'd still be married". I said, "Dad we can love people who aren't good for us, it doesn't mean we have to stay in a situation that is unhealthy. Loving someone and leaving someone are not two mutually exclusive states."

Sometimes people can't love each other "in practice" for what ever reason, he cheats, she drinks, they want kids, that one doesn't you know what I mean? But look inside your heart. Is the love still there? Yes? Really? After all that nastiness that went down, you still love that person? Well what is that if it isn't unconditional?

This was an ongoing conversation, as I said, it went on for nearly a year.

One day, my Dad called me. He was happy. He said he finally understood it. He explained it to me like this , there was nothing I could ever do to destroy the love he had for me, he said he knew after all this time and all our talks and all our confessions and recollections that he knew I loved him, the way he loved me. And he went on to make the connection between the father-daughter love we shared, and the mother-son love between him and his mother, and finally he knew, that she loved him, the way he loved me, unconditionally.

So forward to yesterday, I'm feeling like crap, literally. All these names are swirling around in my head, and I'm trying to figure out why they aren't on my Christmas card list anymore, and exactly when and how did they drift away? I was wondering why it took me so long to notice my crowd was thinning. I was feeling abandoned. I was wondering why it always comes back to that stupid feeling? I was wondering how can I be so full of love for so many people I no longer know, and so little love for the people I do (know). I was feeling mabey a little bit the fool, wishing I was the one who cut the cord, wishing I was the one who walked away, who made the decision to stop the train. That's when my marathon conversation with Dad popped into my head.

The memory just made it worse. Because for all the wisdom I spouted, for all my confidence in the power of love, I finally, finally felt defeated.

I hung my head with shame and cried out for my Dad. I told him I was sorry. I was wrong. Unconditional love doesn't exist out side of my fantasy ridden mind. The connection I felt to people, that connection I had more faith in than taxes or death had finally fled me.

Love, I decided was a state of insanity, a subtle mixture of hormone induced feelings of fuzzy warmth, designed to make you do silly things like stop and smell the roses, giving the pick pocket who's been tailing you , time to make his move.
In the words of the wedding singer "LOVE SUCKS!"

As soon as I addressed my deceased father, and I mean the instant, my radio crackles to life after a two-three day silence, just long enough for me to hear the deep brassy tones of a black man (like my dad) croon "Baby, I love you."

I bawled my eyes out.

I think I'll put my trust in love, not simply because the radio told me it loved me, but also and mostly, because I'd rather be hopeful, than hopeless.