My father, Willard Charles Nelson,
pouring over a page in A History of Lutsen
Gateway to the Wilderness
by Robert Mc Dowell
When I last saw my father in January of last year, he was so dear, so present, and the Dad I've always known. Little did I realize, the runny nose, which was beginning to be a great bother, was to precede his final days.
In the course of our visit, I told Willard when he arrived in heaven--that I wanted him to tell me he reached his celestial home. He smiled softly and tapped his left temple as if to say: I will try to remember. This past Sunday morning, he did.
I wasn't sound asleep, but somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. This scene came before me: a moment of wonderment. My arms were outstretched and I was walking toward someone--yet, I knew not who it was to be. But suddenly I see my dad's face with a soft smile on his lips.
My joy leapt within this cosmic mystery.
I hugged him fiercely.
By now, I was as electrically charged as a thunderbolt. It was the affirmation I have been seeking. The dear communication my heart sought.
Today, Tuesday, September 24, 2019, I admittedly have wiped tears, but I also feel rejuvenated to lean into all the notes I have on my dad who lived to be 103.
And Willard? He's alive and spiritually well.