If dad talks to me, it’s through music. It’s usually in the morning, after a troubled night of sleep or a day of missing him so much that I had no resolve but to curl in bed and let the world fall away. It’s mornings when I can feel the frustration of missing him bursting through my skin.
It’s happened a number of times, getting in my car and hearing exactly what I need to. Songs that have no business being on the radio, but those familiar melodies I have loved for years coming forward to give me a sense of calm at a time when I can barely stand to function.
Usually, this makes me cry, but the other day – dad made me laugh. The days before had been difficult. I think it was because we soldiered through another “first” milestone, my brother’s birthday, and the three of us – mom, my brother and I – had spent the weekend together where, truthfully, the absence of dad felt more evident than usual.
Then, it hit a peak. I just didn’t have the energy or fight to force a smile. To exchange pleasantries and act like everything was OK. It was a long, somber day. After work, I retreated home to a hot shower and consigned myself inside, in desperate need of quiet. When mom called, I think she sensed my sadness. The usual engaging tone of her voiced softened as I told her I wasn’t much up for conversation.
I cried a lot that night. I laid in bed and listened to the heavy quiet, and waited. Waited for what, I’m not sure. Maybe some reassurance, a sense of peace, a voice through the darkness. Something. Anything. And nothing came, so I went to bed.
I slept more soundly than I had in days and woke feeling somewhat refreshed, but still in a haze – until I got in my car. The station it was set to was in the middle of their morning program, so I quickly changed it. And there it was. My song. My horrible song. For those that know me, know my foolish love for Enrique Iglesias – and particularly his ridiculous, sugary song “I Like It.” It’s become an anthem of sorts over the years. I used to play it in my office when it struck 5 on a Friday to signal to everyone the weekend had arrived. And I play it anywhere that has a jukebox, almost as a joke, but it’s impossible for it not to a bring a smile to my face.
It’s been years and I almost never hear it on the radio, but there was that familiar beat filling my car – and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
I could just imagine dad – “OK Toots, knock off the snibbles and have fun.” And I did, I laughed and smiled all the way through my commute as the radio continued to play other, favorite forgotten songs from over the years.
I know it’s silly. I constantly question the validity of things I interpret as “signs” – whether it’s just coincidences I eagerly look to for reassurance, or if dad is really with me. At this point, there have been too many odd things that have happened for me to ignore – but that’s a conversation for another time.
And dad, well – he was larger than life, he found joy wherever he could and loved a good party. And you know what? I like it.
A REKD GIRL 