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King of Pain



I have an incredible story to share with you all.  Many of you might not believe it but it's true. As you may know my 92-year-old father passed away in his sleep on the morning of December 22nd. He always told me he'd die in his sleep. Prior to his passing and in fact on multiple occasions over the course of years, I'd ask the old man just as I'd asked my mother on the beach that night back in '98: "When you die if you can let me know you're there, okay? Give me a sign." And to my father specifically: "You know I like playing cards. Send me lots of cards." Skeptically the old man always agreed. 
This past Thursday, February 1, 2018, after I finished teaching the final chapter of The Great Gatsby at a local high school—my alma mater as a matter of fact—I found myself traversing the staff parking lot once more. A month earlier I began my tenure as a student teacher in Kyle Saad's English classes at Palm Desert High. 

 Every day when departing the school I can't help but notice the gold Toyota parked in the same spot near the performing arts building that has my dad's name "JIM" in the license plate. As I approached the vehicle, this card appeared on the ground out of nowhere. I gasped as I rarely find cards. When I saw it there I knew instantly what it meant. According to Robert Lee Camp in his book, Destiny Cards: "When the Six of Clubs appears, you may have just discovered a special purpose in your life, one that is very meaningful and fulfilling. It is the card of responsibility to the spoken word as well as of discovering one's personal or professional destiny". Then I realized that this same playing card is laying directly in front of the SUV whose license plate reads: "JIM". Coincidence? And I'm Cyndi Lauper. 
But it gets even better. That same night: Thursday, February 1st, I had my first dream about my father since his not-surprising-but-unexpected death three days before Christmas. Now mind you, my last words to the old man were: "I've got to go. Call me tomorrow." 

 Standing in the doorway of his room at the old folks home, Pops smiled strangely, reached his hand up to wave goodbye, appeared on the verge of saying something but never quite could. This poignant image, an exquisite metaphor, will forever be burned into my brain and memory. 

 In my dream, thirty-four days after his death, the phone next to my bed rings startling me awake. Dazed and confused I roll over to my left side and pick up a beige rotary phone circa 1981. 

 "Hello." 

 And it's him—JIM—on the other end. Although it was staticky I hear him say: "Polly, did you get the card I sent you?" 

 I'm shocked but ecstatic and wide awake now. 

 "Yeah, I got it! I got it! Where are you, Dad? 

 He seemed reluctant to tell me so I lean in a little more, "Where arrrrre you?" But he just sort of hemmed & hawed. Then the static suddenly increased and the line went dead... 


I awoke with a shiver the following morning. One week later seven more cards appeared in the exact same spot.



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