I’m reminded of the story where a woman
goes to a medium to get in contact with her
mother. Contact is made. Through the medium
there is a long conversation, at the end of which,
the daughter asks: “But Mama, when did you
learn to speak English?”
Why would the dead be concerned with the
day to day? This seems to be more of a Shinto
version of the after life. And this language
of symbols they all seem to have learned
that John Edward understands? Where’s the cure
for cancer? Anybody ever describe what
it’s like on the other side? And apparently
pets are allowed?
My seventy-nine year old widowed
mother is skeptical.
But let me give you a story. One afternoon
my mother was in her living room lavishing
affection on her dog, (it eats better than any
the family ever did), when suddenly she
was struck by a strong smell. It was the
not so sweet scent of cheap cigar smoke.
“What is that?” My mother asked herself.
Then as in a revelation, she realized: “Pop!”
Some years before his death, having given
up smoking herself, my mother forbade my
father from smoking his El Productos in
their house. My father loved his El Productos.
I can still see him sitting out by or in the garage
stoically puffing away. When he died, we honored
his wish and had an El Producto included with
his body for cremation. Now I’m not saying
anything certain, but it would be just like
the Pop I knew to come back just to say in
his own way: “So what are you going to do now!”