That’s Concrete To Me

Growing up, I assumed everything around me had always been there, and would always remain there. I simply didn’t question anything.

  1. The city’s confusing interchanges: always existed. 
  2. The stinky lake we swam in: always been there, always smelled bad.
  3. My mom, my dad, my sisters: forever and ever.

I believed every single word uttered by the nuns. Mary was a saint and holy virgin. Joseph accepted, as I did, she had received a gift from God, and from that gift came Jesus. Joseph didn’t accuse her of sleeping around, why would I? Adam was bored, god created Eve to entertain him. Amazing.

I’m far from being a religious person, but believing is easy and natural. And when I watch a movie or read a book, I fall under the same comfort of going with the story and allowing it to come true to life. This is probably why I struggle with horror movies.

When my dad died I came face to face with the knowledge he wasn’t going to be there forever and ever. But being the naive person that I am, I allowed him to call me in my dreams. The phone would ring and as usual I was greeted with “C’est ton pèèèèère!” (with a strong emphasis on the accented e). Even if I answered “hi dad” he felt the need to establish decorum and introduce himself. This always made me smile, so it was only natural he’d introduce himself in my dreams as well.

Along my beliefs, of course, there is life after death. Again, remembering what the nuns taught me, when I die there will be a big party in the sky with all the people who love(d) me and will welcome me with their angelic wings surrounded by fluffy cottony clouds à-la Philadelphia Cream Cheese.

Although I know those messed up interchanges haven’t always existed, and knowing most of them are about to crumble (Montreal is on the verge of some messy traffic situations) and the lake I swam in was once clean enough to drink from, there is still a part of me that hangs on to their permanence. And that’s ok.

Because if I lose these views, then other things will crumble as well. And dealing with major losses would become overwhelming. My dad was one of the nicest, sweetest person I knew. To think he is forever and ever gone from my existence is unbearable.

With everything being fake, superficial, fluttering and temporary – it’s comforting to surround ourselves with (illusions) of solidity. Sometimes you just need solid concrete ground to walk on as buildings topple and fall over.

p.s. This is the very 1st writing prompt from Studio 30+: CONCRETE. I couldn’t resist the urge…

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15 thoughts on “That’s Concrete To Me”

  1. I agree with Jotter. Although I cannot help but wonder if technology has advanced in heaven as it has on Earth. Did he sound like he was on a cell phone? Just curious… Can't imagine heaven without the ability to text!

    On a more serious note, I think these dreams are a blessing. I lost my dad too and I never dream of him. However I think a phone call every once in a while would be the coolest thing ever!!

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  2. Electronics are the #1 was that we receive messages from our loved ones. Those aren't dreams, but your Dad checking in to let you know he's still there. My late hubby “called” me a couple times, he called his daughter, and his son as well. I've no doubt!!! And it's so comforting.

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  3. Ug, my dad turned 60 this year and I'm trying to deal with the sudden realization that he ISN'T going to be around forever and it's SO HARD. He's the only person I trust 100% and I can always count on him for good advice and encouragement. I have NO idea how I'm going to get through it when the time comes.

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