Somebody asked…

Somebody asked me the other day if I really talk to Charley… and I answered yes, for all the same reasons you would too.
You keep reading, even though you may not believe most of what you see here. You keep reading because inside somewhere deep is the thought that maybe, just maybe there is more to the world around us… than the world around us. You keep reading though you have no idea whether the origin of my information is from good or from evil. You keep reading because not to, would leave even a greater whole in your understanding of what happened to Charley than the one you came here with.
But mostly you keep reading because you do not understand why anyone would talk to me and not to you. But is it because they are not talking… or because you are not listening?
Do I talk to Charley?
Sure, why not? I talk to my dogs and they don’t seem to mind. I talk to my kids…and they don’t seem to mind either. Aaaahhhh….I know what you were thinking! But that was not meant as a double-entendre! I talk to my husband too, though I am certain he may sometimes wish otherwise!

I talk to Charley in the same fashion that I talk with my parents who are both passed. In the same way I talk to socks that have somehow escaped their mates in my dryer. Or the box of spaghetti I could have sworn I bought and placed in the pantry. Or my checkbook when it lies and tells me I no longer have any money… ok, that part might be a stretch. I never argue with my checkbook. It is always right. I have no money!
Yes I talk to Charley in the same way I talk to St. Anthony (patron saint of lost articles) when I cannot find my keys. Or even to St. Jude, (patron saint of lost causes) when I see the threshold of beautiful home I know I will never cross. And yes, even when I plead with St. Teresa (patron saint of all writers) to help me find the appropriate words to describe deep moments of inspiration, depression or affection. I even talk with God. Some days I even argue with Him when I feel we aren’t on the same page and….and that happens a lot.
Mostly because He thinks He knows better and I, in my infinite naiveté think He thinks too much and should take a break and let me at the helm for a spell! (Fortunately, He allows limited access to that! LOL)
But do I talk to Charley…yep! Guilty, as charged. Why? Because my mind is frail and my comprehension of the totality of life so compromised by tunnel vision and human ego that if left to my own- I might miss some incredible message meant for me to share. Because even in another language, you can decipher meaning or intent. Does the look on your child’s face when you pick them up from school tell you what kind of day they had? Does your dog tell you when he’s hungry… or happy to see you… or that your oriental rug is in immediate peril of being used as a potty pad? Sure he does.
Am I comparing God or Charley to a dog?
No…but every soul has a message and for every message there is a recipient and a sender. Sometimes I talk to Charley because quite frankly, God gets a little busy every now and then and it’s good for me to burden someone else with my questions. Quite frankly in the beginning it was never my intention to do anything more than listen to this story because someone asked me to.
I did not solicit for this. I was chosen.
Because when others turned a deaf ear and continued to chatter, I chose to remain silent and hear the words.
Because someone who lost a loved one chose to write a journal and to a writer nothing is more sacred than the written word.
Because Charley was someone’s husband and someone’s father.
But mostly because she was someone’s daughter and she asked of me something she could not get others to help her do…

Find the answers!

One Response to “Somebody asked…”

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