A dialogue with the dead

Ok, so, in the last post I told you that I would reveal some of the drama that has already happened in my life. It is upto you to believe whatever I write here. It might be too bold for you or maybe this happens to everyone and I just make a big deal about everything. It's for you to decide.

I should start with some thing small.

One night as I was sitting on my bed with my cousins. We had just come back from my dad's funeral. it wasn't a sad morning. people had been mourning all week and now they were tired. I was just 11, I didn't understand why everyone kept crying. The death of my father had not seeped into my soul yet. As we buried our feet into the quilt, I felt a gush of wind sweep past my ear. The door was open and suddenly the weather had taken a turn for the worse.

we sat looking at each other's faces. The winds started t grow stronger.they grew colder. My cousin looked at me and shivered, "Did you talk to your father?"

Ilooked scared. I had not talked to him in the hospital. Not even when he was on his death bed. my mother had decided, I wasn't old enough to handle the pain of watching him die.

My cousin stared at my face, which was slowly turning a paler shade of  white. She repeated her question. I looked at her and then I turned to look out the door, it had turned from a dry sunny afternoon to a dreary, black, monstrous  evening. The winds making the trees to bow to their prowess .

I thought to myself. " Daddy, is that you ?"

Clenching my eyes shut, I concentrated to see his face in my head.

"Dad? Is that you? "

The winds blew harder.

"Daddy, if this is really you, give me a sign."

Lightening struck on a nearby tree and the stray dogs howled for their lives.

As a young kid, who had not seen any such co-incidences yet, believed it to be a sign sent straight  from  the heavens.

"Daddy, you are scaring my cousins. I am here for you."
The storm seemed to smoothen.

"Daddy, I know you miss me, I miss you too.  I wanted to see you before they took you away."
Another stroke of lightening and I was sure I was having a spiritual dialogue with the dead.

"Daddy, please don't be mad, I am always here with you."

The winds appeased.

I smiled to myself. My father loved me still.

My cousins were shaking under the quilt. I looked at them, smiling to myself. They were scared of my father, the man who loved them and me. The one who could never hurt a soul while he lived.
As I tried to change the topic among the other children in the room, I knew my father and I were going to be inseparable for life.