Does Time Really Heal All Wounds ?
This coming Sunday will mark the one year anniversary of the passing of my father, Dale Wolfe, Sr. As the approach of this day has loomed seemingly over my head since the start of this month, it has brought much reflection to my life. Once the calendar flipped over to the month of June, I set a conscious intention to make July as busy as possible so that I would be distracted and would not have time to feel the sadness that still knocks me to my knees at times. There is a hole in my heart that no one else can fill. And even though I know Dad’s spirit is around me, and seen quite often by my son, it is not the same. That human being that I am is still a very sense oriented person. I want to hold Dad’s hand again. I want to feel his strong arms around me. I want to see those hazel eyes twinkle and hear that amazing laugh. I want and I want, but it doesn’t seem to change things.
In the higher perspective, I have the conscious awareness that it was Dad’s “time” to go. He was ready to let go of his physical form and no longer be in pain. Cancer is a terrible illness and involves so much on an energetic level I couldn’t even explain it in words. If I could perhaps set off a nuclear bomb that’s radiation infects everything within it’s path for miles and miles of existence, it might begin to scratch the surface of what this horrid disease does to a person. I am forever grateful that my dear Father no longer feels this pain or struggle within himself.
It’s been a long year without him. Milestones and tragedies have occurred in the family. We lost my father in law, George, six months after Dad passed, to cancer as well. Dad’s spirit was there at the hospital as I assisted George in his transition, guiding me and supporting me every step of the way. When I had to be strong for my husband and our family, Dad was there lending his hand and his strength to me once more. So often I am drawn to pick up the phone and call him to share something that’s happened with my kids or ask for one of his pearls of wisdom, and then I realize that I can’t do that anymore. But now he knows without me even saying the words. I find myself singing the songs we liked to sing or watching the westerns we would watch together. Recently when I went to the theater to see a new western, I could feel Dad right there next to me, talking to me about how much the Lone Ranger had changed since he used to see it.
There is much that saddens me, but in so many ways I am forever thankful for the new connection that Dad and I share. I truly feel he is the one person in the whole wide world that ever really understood me and never judged me. To say this man loved me unconditionally would be an understatement. He didn’t always understand what I did, or agree with my belief systems, but he accepted me.
I hadn’t realized until just recently how much guilt I was holding onto in regards to how Dad passed. Me, being so enlightened and all (right!) just assumed I aligned with that higher understanding of each soul choosing their exit point and transitioning when it was there chosen time. Someone should have explained that to my unconscious and conscious mind, because in the depths of those realms laid a heavy weight of false belief thinking I could have done something different to prevent his passing and the accident that ultimately caused his death. That little girl inside me that he’d protected and safeguarded my whole life was questioning how on earth I could not do the same for my beloved father. Why had I failed him? How could I fail him?
Just writing those words takes the air out of my lungs.
My father was the first to step forward upon this realization and ask to assist in helping me clear that energy. He reassured me that it was nothing I did or did not do. He wasn’t living a life he wanted to live anymore and he was through with hospitals, chemo treatments and being poked and prodded. He couldn’t be the man he wanted to be and so he chose to move into a different vibration that allowed him the freedom to watch over his family. This was his solution, he said, this was his soul-ution. As he spoke to me a clarity came over my mind and my body. I felt a peace I hadn’t felt in some time move through me.
So where is the gift in all this? Of course it is that my father is no longer in pain and as the eternal soul that he is, he is still present in my life. But is there more that I am to learn from this? Was there something else? I posed these questions to my Dad this morning as I enjoyed the few moments of quiet time I had. When I looked back at the last few years in my life and the losses I’ve experienced on a personal level – two very close friends and the two fathers in my life – as well as the many transitions I’ve assisted with, I felt like there was more I was supposed to understand.
So many people turn to you to bring through messages from their loved ones who have passed because they are in such a deep state of grief, my father said. What if you could teach them to move through that grief by connecting with their loved ones from the other side? The healing can go hand in hand, just as it has worked for you. Think of the times I’ve asked you to give me your pain so that I could assist you. Think of the energy, prayer and emotional techniques you’ve used over the last year and what has helped you. What if you could teach others this very same thing? Moving through the emotions, connecting to their loved ones and having Angelic assistance to boot! Sounds like a great plan to me!
Yep, Dad. It sounds like a great plan to me too. Looks like there is another gift here to be found. I think I’ve got a lot of writing to do and a big project in the works now. Good thing I’ve got help with this one!
Does times heal all wounds? I think the void that is created when we lose a loved one through death is a deep wound. But as with all wounds, the healing begins when we find the right remedy. Perhaps the best soul-ution for that is filling the void with the love we feel for those that have passed and making the conscious choice to connect with them.
I love you, Daddy. Thanks for helping me to keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other.