Ghost of The Past

People often refer to ghost like those ghoulish spirits under white sheets like you see in Scooby Doo cartoons which, in the end is a fake, "thanks to those meddling kids." That is NOT what I am talking about today. Isn't it interesting that the kind of ghost they talk about on the A&E network always want to come up behind you and tap you on the shoulder, you never see one just deck somebody. Why is that? Could it be that the masses are wrong and nobody is ever caught between worlds? The truth is people usually fear what they cannot see. There is a reason why they always end those shows with the caption "so in the end we are left with more questions than answers." This is just their back-door way of saying "WE DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING EITHER." But just like the end of any decent horror flick they try to make you think there will justifiably be a part two to the story. If I were forever condemned to walk the earth as nothing but a cliche' with a white sheet over my head, I'd be mad about it and be looking for a bit of revenge as well. Wouldn't you?

But when it comes to crossing over people do have more questions than answers, don't they? Is it because the thought of crossing over to the other side is scary? This is where being a Christian comes in handy, in short it means there are no accidents, and your questions are already answered. And I should point out from my Okie point of view there are a lot of things that gnaw at a man more than dying.

But I too often think about those that have passed before me. I have no proof that they watch over me, but I'd like to think they do, it gives me a feeling of peace. I often imagine my old man watching me from above thinking to himself, "yes, I too once stumbled like that, he is going be fine." A wise man once told me that the earth is a gift we hold dear until it is our kids turn to inherit it. No man wants to think of his own fate as accidental. It feels too important to leave up to tempting the Gods like we are just pitching pennies or playing some obscure form of rock, paper, scissors. By the way, you should always use rock, nothing can be beat it.

From a Christians point of view, we should remember that we are special, a package of flesh and blood delivered directly to earth after we are blessed enough to have the good Lord breathe life into our very souls. To scientist we are nothing more than a mass of accidental cells that are simply walking around the four corners of the earth, derived from organic soup, and taking up valuable space and stealing precious oxygen away from the red wood trees. Does that sound appealing to you? It does not to me. Whichever way you lean on that topic could help determine your stance on life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and whether you like your steak well done or if you like it rare enough to bleed and turn your mashed potatoes pink. But like everything in life it's a choice.

Last week my brother drove down from Topeka, and we went together to sprinkle our dad's ashes on one of his favorite fishing holes. I found the event strangely emotional as the old man had passed on nearly five years ago. Why did we wait so long you ask? Well, that's in part because I had just started a new job, I needed to get back to it straight away and Topeka is a four-hour drive from Broken Arrow. My brother and I took turns tossing handfuls of the dad's ashes in that bassy looking pond and it felt prophetic. As I felt the shards of bones between my fingers, I could see him in my mind's eye lowering himself into that body of water on a cool March Day in his tube that had stenciled on the side of it "HANG ONE HAWG" while the dragon flies landed on the end of his fishing pole and he lit a Newport and tried to decide if he was going to go plastic worm or top water today. We all have our choices to make in life, and he always relished his. That was until he read an article that told him tying dryer sheets around your neck was a sure-fire way to keep away mosquitoes. That was his ultimate failure.

As my brother and I stood on the bank of that pond listening to the frogs croaking and the cicadas singing with our arms around each other's shoulders a peace came over me like a warm blanket. I remembered at that point that the body is merely a vessel and the part that really matters now rests in the arms of our savior. He is our rock, our salvation, and our end all. It was important for me to remember that when dad passed, I may have lost an important person in my circle, but God called him home for a purpose. We may not always understand the purpose or the intent, but then again, some things SHOULD be above our pay grade.