Ken woke before his alarm, his body was still adjusting to the time difference. Before turning his phone to silent mode the night before he had sent Jessica a good morning WhatsApp message. He felt bad, for he should have called, but, he just did not know how to even start to share all that was ricocheting inside of him. Upon waking he was greeted by her good morning message to him. Her sweet supportive message made him smile, his heart swelled, for he really knew she loved him for who he was, they truly did enjoy each other and the love had grown rich over the years.
Brewing a cup of mediocre in room hotel coffee, he sat down to spend a little time with the magazine and a pad of paper. The night before he had made the decision to wake an hour earlier than normal, giving himself time to sort through some of his confused feelings. Before he opened the magazine, he wrote down on his blue lined notepad – “Dad, Having a baby, South Africa”. These were the three things that seemed to percolate at the top of his heart and mind.
Opening the magazine he held his breath.
“Good morning Ken,” the page seemed to sing at him as it typed.
“Good morning page,” he chuckled in response, feeling free to talk out loud since he was alone in his room.
“Wow, you have lots bubbling around in your heart today. How are you feeling,” inquired the words.
“I’m so mixed up, yet, I feel really optimistic,” he responded with joyful ease.
“Yes, your vibration feels fabulous. What do you want to talk about,” it asked, giving him free rein to guide the experience.
“I guess I will start at the top of my page, my dad. How do I even go about finding him,” he asked, noticing that he did not have the usual hurt angry sensations that typically rose up with the mere thought of his dad.
“Well, as we discussed yesterday, there are lots of ways these days to find people. Do you know anyone personally who might have some guidance,” probed the publication gently.
“I really don’t want to open up that conversation with my mom and the only sibling I really communicate with is my one sister, Shannon. I’ve never heard her talk about my dad, she was really young when he left,” he calmly presented in response.
“Do you know for sure she has not reached out to your dad? Would she likely tell you if she had,” pushed the black letters on the page.
“Well,” inhaled Ken, thinking about his sister and their relationship. She did not have resentment towards their dad, for she had been too young and life had not been quite as challenging for her. She had stopped talking with him about their dad years ago, after they had gotten into a big fight where she encouraged him to forgive, so he could release the anger inside. As he replayed this forgotten memory he noticed things he had not paid attention to before, she was so calm and almost seemed caring with regard to their dad. As he felt into the scene, he actually found himself wondering if they had been in touch. The magazine was right, she would not share it with him, for she knew his intense hurt and anger towards the man that was their father.
“Well,” he said again, “you might be right. Shannon may know how to contact him. Why have I never asked her before, why did she not tell me, how have I missed the softness in her voice when she mentions him, what does she know that I don’t,” the questions rolled out so quickly that the magazine had no time to respond.
“You know the answers to all those questions, if you’re willing to listen to your internal self,” chortled the page.
Ken, let the magazine fall into his lap, leaning back he allowed himself to feel into this new awareness. He almost felt certain that his sister knew how to get in touch with their dad, Ken Sr, yep, he was the junior of this man. He had never signed his name that way, he had actually almost had his name changed when he was twenty-two, for his anger towards his dad seethed like a red hot coal burning brightly.
“How had he missed it,” he asked himself audibly. Rewinding the argument, it was obvious to him now that his sister knew things that he did not about their dad. His mind reeled at the discovery.
“We cannot see or know things that our heart, soul and mind are not ready to understand and feel,” the magazine typed in comfort and explanation. “You were not ready at that time to hear or know about your dad,” it continued on the next line.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear the shock, wishing to digest this news.
“Well, I guess my first course of action is to contact Shannon. I will send her a message this morning before my meetings,” he stated in surprised appreciation to the glossy canvas.
Glancing at his phone, he sat up quickly.
“I gotta get ready, time sure goes fast when I visit with you. We only talked about one of the subjects this morning. Guess the other two get to wait,” he smiled down at the page, his heart hanging wide open with his recent ah-ha moment.
“Since your heart and soul are open and awake, perhaps, some of the answers you seek will flow in from other places, people and experiences,” offered the magazine before Ken closed the page.
Ken stood up heading to the bathroom for a shower. Replaying the last words from the magazine, he tried to absorb them through the layers of bewilderment he presently felt. Standing in the warm flowing water, he gave himself permission to remember more about that intense discussion with his sister. She had said to him, “Maybe everything you think about him is not true, how do you really know that he never tried to be in touch?’
Placing his hand on the wall to steady himself, he allowed the wave of emotions to rush through his body, there it was, the core of his hurt. His sister had tried to tell him that day how wrong his judgment might be.
Tears slid down his face, splashing onto the shower mat, they swirled down the drain with the soap, water, and memory. His whole body felt limp, twenty one years of anger pulsing through his veins, creating room for possibility. He allowed the sobs to rack his body, he wanted to be free of the knots of pain, to let go, to open the door to maybe learning something different about his dad.
To be continued… 36