Chasing a ghost...

Some things are easy to write about…and some things are not.  Sometimes I think it's better to have a moment and not look at it too closely.  It’s taken me eight months to write about this, I’m not certain just why.

Last June Larry and I had a grandson graduating from high school.  On the appointed day we arrived at the high school, trooped into the gymnasium with several hundred other proud parents/grandparents and assorted relatives and proceeded to look for a seat in the bleachers.  I hadn’t been seated in the bleachers for a lot of years…their comfort level has not improved one iota since I was in high school.

The temperature of the gym seemed to go up with every person who entered on this sultry, hot June day.  Finally, as we sat looking for just the right cowlick peeking out from under a purple mortar board, we saw him.  It was a very proud moment to see this young man, so full of promise, stride into the gym and take a seat.

As we sat waiting for the diplomas to be handed out, I looked around just taking in the crowd and looking for familiar faces.  Finally, across the gym I saw one.  My eyes rested on an older man seated just inside the door on a wheeled walker or maybe a transport wheelchair.  The man had a thin, silver comb over.  He wore an ever-present plaid shirt and tan pants.  His white socks and black shoes, also predictable,  completed the outfit.   I could see his white billy-goat whiskers, his silver watch on his left arm, and silver rimmed glasses that he slid down his nose as he read the commencement booklet.  Eventually he looked up and our eyes seemed to lock.  I sat looking for what seemed like forever at my Dad.

I’ve read the phrase “the hair stood up on the back of my neck” before without ever really understanding it…now I did.  My father died seven years ago, and on this far removed June day I’m sitting in a high school gymnasium looking him full in the face.   From a distance…yes…but if this wasn't Pop it had to be his doppelganger.

I had my iPad in my lap.  Switching it on I quickly snapped a picture just to make sure he’d show up…he did. Dragging my fingertips across the screen I "bloomed" the picture and peered at it closely. (what the?.....)   I snapped two more and decided I simply had to go across the gym to see this man close up.  Closing my iPad, I turned to my husband to tell him why I why I would be climbing through this crush to the gym floor and heading out the door.  Before I could do that I looked up and the man was gone.  I had not seen him come in, I did not see him leave, but the spot he occupied just a heartbeat ago was empty.

To say I was shaken would be putting it mildly.  I fought off the urge to get out of that gym and chase the man down; I knew he couldn’t have gotten far with a walker/wheelchair.  Instead, I took a deep, calming breath and decided against it.   I stayed and watched my grandson receive his diploma and toss his cap into the air instead.

I’m not superstitious, and logically I knew that couldn’t be my dad.   The beauty of the whole thing is that, whoever the man was, he gave me a few seconds with my beloved father at an event he would have attended if it were at all possible.  I know that, for just a moment, I was tempted to chase a ghost; I stayed in the bleachers because my Pop wouldn’t have wanted me to miss this for the world.   Maybe...just maybe....he didn't miss it either.

                                                             Life is Good