Sometimes You Just Need a Hug From Your Dad

My dad can bust some seriously creative moves from the other side. I can always picture him grinning when he gets my attention. He passed away when I was 24 and has had some very unique ways of saying hello over the years.

Last year I was frustrated beyond belief trying to get better.  I would attend my gentle Pilates class and fight back tears the entire time while trying to hold limbs in place – my legs would literally plummet to the floor if I didn’t hold them up with both hands while wrapping my fingers around folds of my leggings. These are moves I had mastered years before. It didn’t help at the time that a symptom of my gluten ataxia was actually bursting out crying because my nervous system was overwhelmed. It is really exhausting when you are trying to get better but everything you attempt only seems to make matters worse.

In my frustration, like a little girl, I just really wanted my dad to be there to make things better.  Wanted my dad there for me to feel little and protected. Wanted him to say and do “dad” things. I knew he couldn’t fix my situation but even just patting me on the head and saying,”I love you kiddo. Everything is going to be ok,” would have filled my cup. I found myself repeating for several days,”Dad, please come say hi. Give me a hug somehow. I know you are always with me, but right now I really need something concrete I can hold onto.  I love you and need you right now. Show me something tangible.”

After a couple days of talking to my dad in my head and out loud, I headed to the same Pilates class I had attended at a community centre for years, and went to put my mat down as per usual. I always snag the corner spot on a big, colourful children’s play mat. I like the extra cushioning and the space.  For the first time ever, there was a children’s book smack dab in the middle of my mat. I bent down to see what it said and burst out crying – this time out of amazement and wonder – not a messy ataxia cry. I quickly turned to face the wall pretending I was straightening out my mat as people trickled into the room.  The book was open to this page and these words:

Sometimes You Just Need a Hug From Your Dad – I Love You by Ellen Lescoat

And I flipped to the front of the book to see this title…

Sometimes You Just Need a Hug From Your Dad – I Love You by Ellen Lescoat

I tried to keep my emotions in check. I had the biggest grin on my face as big, fat tears plopped on my Pilates mat.  And in that class, it didn’t matter that my limbs were in pain and flailing everywhere. It didn’t matter that my brain wasn’t sending the right signals to my tremoring body parts. I grinned through every move even if I was “mastering” 1/10 of it. I had tears in my eyes not from frustration but from sheer joy. My dad was with me. Watching over me. Will always be with me.  And I can’t think of a more beautiful way for my dad to say hi and get my attention. Books are magical to me. Always have been. Always will be.

Some people choose not to believe their loved ones say hi from the other side. Coincidence, fluke, they claim.  I say this is really quite a shame because there is beautiful energy being shared, hugs being sent through dimensions.  Incoming flying hugs as I like to call them! I will take the hugs gratefully thank you very much without having to ask any questions, without having to know how or why it all works. And smile. And laugh. And be grateful. And bask in the good energy. Thanks Dad. I love you too.  xo