This morning my husband drove me to the military cemetery to visit dad’s grave again. The grounds are about 25 miles from home, so the drive is pretty long. It was a pretty day, blue skies, mild temperatures, and the memorial park had a few visitors besides us.
We drove past the committal shelters and the lakes with the fountains spraying up, making little mists and tiny rainbows. Then we parked near the Columbarium that stored my dad’s cremated remains in a brass urn, stored in a marble niche. I had a bouquet of orange daisies, because he liked the color orange. My dear husband dug a little spot in the gravel next to dad’s niche with the white marble plaque that sealed it shut.
We stayed a while, and a lot of thoughts and memories came up to surface, but it was all ok this time. I remembered the birthday parties my parents gave me, and then I recalled the birthday cake I brought dad on his last birthday. It was vanilla cake with vanilla frosting, his favorite, and there were orange and yellow decorations and drizzles on it.
It’s hard to grasp the fact that after a person is dead, there’s no talking to them again, not on this side of life. You must say the things you need to say to them while they are still lucid, when they’re alive. Even if you despised your parents, you must at least try to be friends with them in their later years. People change, the closer they get to dying. My dad was friendly, and talkative, and a good listener. I’m glad he was so intelligent, too, because I knew he understood what I was talking about, and we had good conversations up until a week before he died.
It’s sad to watch a person decline. In the last week or 2 of his life, he almost completely stopped eating, and I think I was the last family member to give him a drink of water after he had been transported to the Hospice room. His eyes didn’t open the last day I saw him, but he was still there. He was so thin, and his skin was like paper, so thin, no fat underneath, just about. His room was very comfortable, quiet, but the tv was on, and tuned to a channel that played very sad music, so I turned it off. I brought him some orchids, and set them in front of him, in case he opened his eyes.
The next day, I went to sign in at hospice, to see dad again, and that’s when I was told he had died overnight. I just slumped down, and started crying, right there in the lobby near the nurse’s desk. I looked up, and there were the orchids, just sitting on the ledge of the nurse’s desk. I cried, and grabbed them, and just felt so at a loss, so upset that he wasn’t there today. I wasn’t going to be able to go to his room ever again. I wanted to see the empty room, but they wouldn’t let me. My brothers showed up, and we all went to a private library-type room to talk about what next.
So, that’s some of the memories that came up today. Please, to anyone reading this, if your parents are still alive, PLEASE GO AND TALK TO THEM. I’d love to be able to have just a few more hours with dad, but that time is past, never to be regained. There is a vast separation between this world and eternity. You can not bridge it, no matter what people say.
You can’t talk to dead family members. You will really be talking to demons who pose as them.
12. Luke 16:25-26 “But Abraham said to him,  But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.
 And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.
Deut. 16: There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch,
 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.
 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.