I remember the ride back from the funeral home after my father passed away in January. My brother and I were heading back to my nephew’s house, as that had become the family gathering spot.
My brother and I were talking about whatever you talk about when your dad dies on you. At some point, the subject came up as to whether I thought he, Pop, was “up there looking down on us.”
I told him I did not.
Maybe I was numb in the moment. I don’t know why. But, at that moment, I didn’t feel it. I wished I did. It would be a very comforting feeling.
I grew up believing in God and Jesus and Heaven and all that good stuff. And I still believe. I just looked up and didn’t feel ol’ Pop was looking down on me.
Fast forward to two weekends ago. We always take our dog out before we go to bed. He’s old and would wake my wife up in the middle of the night if we didn’t.
I’m a deep sleeper. It works out well for whiny dogs, not so well for alarm clocks.
So, I’m taking Rascal out for his nightly bathroom break. As I walk down the steps into the yard, I think to myself: “I wonder if they’re up there looking down on me.”
“They” being my father and mother, as my mother passed in March.
I look up to the sky as I ask myself this question and my eyes fix on a shooting star, traveling westward. It glimmered out within a second, possibly less than a second.
Now I know if you watch the night sky you’re bound to see many things moving around up there.
But what are the odds that from January to June, on a random night, I walk outside and ask myself “I wonder if they’re up there looking down on me.” then look up at the exact second a shooting star is moving across the sky?
I can’t chalk that up to coincidence.
It’s things like that that make people believe.
I’m not going to be asking myself that question every time I walk outside and hoping to see something. The way I see it, I’m one for one. That’s enough for me.
I know what I asked myself that night. I know what I looked up and saw. And now I know they’re up there looking down on me.
I just wonder which one threw the star. My guess is Ma. Pop is either kicked back in a recliner or at a heavenly thrift store.
Toby Nix is a local writer, guitarist and investigator with the Coweta County Sheriff’s Office. He is the author of two books, “Columns I Wrote” and the newly released “A Book I Wrote.” He can be reached at email@example.com