When the veil thins

One of my best friends had a birthday yesterday, which means we’ll be the same age for a couple months, until my birthday. Then I get a day of transition. Then it’s the day my dad died.

I can talk about this right now, but not in a couple months.

This time of year also pushes the idea of the thinned veil between us and those who’ve gone. The saints get a day and the family gets a day. Is the veil really thinner? Or were they really there all along?

I’ve had a couple run-ins with ghosts, or spirits, or whatever they were. My instinct was to just let them be, and remind them to mind their own business too.

Skeptics, please do the eye roll. We both know you’re dying to. As you comment that you don’t believe in things you can’t see, remember that you can’t see farts either, but we certainly know they’re real.

When someone dies, the energy that was them has to go somewhere. It’s the law of physics. They don’t just stop being. Maybe they turn into a star a billion miles away.

I find comfort in belonging to the school who subscribe to the idea that physically, Heaven isn’t a shiny place in the sky, but an invisible plane that hovers just above where we walk. I don’t know if it’s six inches or six feet and don’t really give a damn, I just like feeling that Dad & Co are somehow close at hand when we need them.

Yeah, in my Heaven, they can fly around too if they want. They probably hang out with Angels and Guardian Spirits. Mine’s named Kevin and he smokes too much pot. Sometimes I get pissed and ask him what he was doing when I got this or that bad news, but generally he looks after me and I forget to thank him.

Dad, would you put in a good word for me? And when the veil does thin, I know you’ve heard a few good jokes you’re itching to share.

Shopping Cart