Sometimes They Come Back

I never committed my Papa’s birthday to memory. January 27th, 2009 was the date my mom’s father passed on. We have missed this remarkable man ever since. 

Last week I received a mysterious phone call. A man with gentle Southern drawl told me: “I am doing well. Everything is okay.”

I put the phone down. Suddenly, Papa appeared before me. He wore one of his favorite long sleeved plaid shirts. I reached up, wrapping both arms around Papa’s neck. 

Weeping, I felt instantly the ember of grandfatherly love–still burning after so many years. I collapsed onto Papa, then…

I awakened. Feeling fatigued from tears, I looked at my phone.  September 25th. I soon spoke with my mom. 

September 24th was  Papa’s birthday.  And I’d gone to sleep extra early on that day. 

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