Perfectly Imperfect

My father was a fantastic guy. On December 28, 2016, after being diagnosed first week of September with Stage IV Cancer with 14 weeks to live, he died to the minute of the medical expectations. His Stage IV, Glioblastoma (Brain Cancer) looked a lot like symptoms of senility. Everything slowed down, and some information was lost. The best example I can give is he forgot which direction to deal the cards! That might be no big 'DEAL' for some (get it); but in our family, you first words were 'hit me'! My grandmother taught everyone on Black Jack on her deck in Derry, NH As soon as we could speak, we could count! Needless to say, we had played cards regularly as a family following almost Sunday dinner, rainy nights on vacations in Hummarock and Nashville, and more. There may have even been some money involved, the neighborhood parents didn't approve of. Ha, ha!

Once he was diagnosed, our family embraced the fact that we were on borrowed time! We felt fortunate he had made it to 81 years of age after all he had been through. My father was a longshoreman by trade, and while working on the docks April of 1991, my dad fell 25 feet off the Koni Crane on docks in the Charlestown's Navy Yard. He broke his pelvis, his coxic, and who knows what else. But every time he got knocked down, he'd get up again. He had nine lives! That October, his first day back to work, he had a massive heart attack and chose to drive himself. They sent him home. He went back. Over the next 25 years, he would have another heart attack, a series of TIAs and more medical tests than we could count.

My dad was small in stature and had a supernatural strength for his size! While his physical strength may have been a mystery, to some, he shared his spiritual strength & view point without question. At the same time, my dad restored his childhood faith discipline with morning mass. He was a lector, took the collection(not home), and soon he was playing "Jesus Christ" in the Easter Passion Play Holy Week. No question he lived by spiritual principles and faith. Many of our Irish-Catholic elderly would return to their faith in the at some point. We were close-knit, we have faith in God and took our responsibility to our community and the commandment 'love thy neighbor, as thyself'' very seriously. We did NOT even lock our doors until 1995.

The day after my dad died, we went to the Funeral Parlor to make the arrangements. Soon after our visit securing the details of his service, concerned neighbors and friends arrived with checks, food, booze, etc. The BLA (Longshoreman's Association), the Halligan Club (Firefighter Men’s Club) and Carr's Funeral Parlor were the Grace that got us through the place of mourning. It was quickly obvious that my dad walked his faith, and charity and service to others was a regular in the O'Neil Home.

As people came to pay respects, it was clear they were from all walks of life, all in his life. An alcoholic gentleman, fresh out of rehab, came to share how my dad bought him coffee, cigarettes and candy his last Spin-Dry. One day my mom was driving with my dad, and she said, 'I love the color of that lady's coat; I have one just like it.' My dad responded, 'Not Anymore; I gave her yours.' The Asian women who ran the register where everyone played the daily numbers came, and all she kept saying was 'Mr. Jezz, so nice!' He was! She put his favorite Brand of cigarettes in his casket. (No judgement, it was sweet.)

No sooner did dad die, signs of the thin veil between here and the after life was apparent. Ok, sometimes I question it and thought perhaps I was hallucinating. Riding in the car, our song of our Father-Daughter dance came on. Not the common 'Daddy's Little Girl' lyrics, my dad has chosen 'I Love You Because'. A 1949 original recorded by Leon Payne! Leon WHO? I had never heard it before or since. Driving my son to high school talking about colleges, and a car would cut me off in traffic. I knew the Saint Michael's College Sticker was another sign. My son was soon looking at colleges, and my dad has already chosen St. Michael's College. Get this, when my dad choose my son's middle name, he based it on the fact that he has put the first generaton (his 3 children) though SMC. In fact, My son's initials were SMC because my dad chose his middle name so when Scott attended St. Mike's also, his clothes would be already monogrammed! Kidding, not kidding...

Reminders were everywhere. I came to not only accept them, but to watch for them. That January, I had decided to return to my roots as an Exercise Instructor. Spin, Step and Kick-Boxing were my style, I needed to choose a current trend. Yoga it is! While initially it was not my speed, the next sign would indicate otherwise. Signs (symbols of love and hope) that affirmed I was loved, in the right place or that my dad's spirit was closer than I thought. .

This Yoga was a little more aggressive than I predicted, and it was kicking my *SS. Classes were once a month; and on those weekends, you practiced Fri, Saturday and Sunday. By Saturday, my body was sore, tight and my mind mush. Having only lost my dad 2 weeks prior, while I sweat in doubt and sorry, I assumed I had made a terrible decision. We practiced hard and for very long periods of time, and my emotions finally gave way to fatigue. As I pondered my fate, I collapsed in tears to child’s pose, for about 5 minutes. My heart was broke, my purse was empty it hurt very much. I pushed myself one more time trying to look graceful after a very sad downward dog, there was the sign. On the Mat, in my own sweat, was the word 'ANGEL'. I cannot make this stuff up! The t-shirt I had on had about 12 words on it. I had never actually read. After all, I have 3 dozen black t-shirts as well as Lululemon Pants. The word 'Angel' was clear as day. But 'how could that be, there were a dozen words on my shirt, but ONLY one word made it on the mat right as I was thinking of my dad.

I believed at that moment, between the exercise, exhaustion and grief, I needed hope. I needed a sign or symbol that I was in the right place. Feeling overcome by severe grief, then and there he was again, I knew it was him! Call it what you will! IT WAS what I needed most in that moment. I have been watching for Post Cards from Heave ever since.