Sunlight Peeking Through the Rain
One year after saying goodbye, the beautiful spring morning that helped me let go.
The first time I heard Peace Somehow I immediately stopped the song and played it again from the beginning. And again. And again. Before sending it to at least 5 friends and family members.
I’ll never forget that first time. It was April 2025 maybe the 5th maybe the 6th my memories blur and shimmer during this time. I had just given my dad a dose of morphine. I had been up with him every two hours for 2 maybe 3 days by this point. Two mornings I spent calling family members and having them say their final goodbyes.
This one I remember because he couldn’t speak back any longer. But he’d move his eyes in a way that showed he could hear. A loving look in his eyes, a hand squeeze all he could now offer me for comfort. He had started seeing things a couple weeks before, family members long gone coming to say hello. In a way I felt like they were visiting me too.
This morning was different though. It was the first morning that I could no longer lie to myself and convince myself he was going to pull through this time. Denial is a rabid dog and it really didn’t want to let go.
He’d fallen asleep and all the calls were over for the day. The one thing I wanted to do the most was to bring him out to the patio so he could enjoy the warm spring Sun. I spent two days in between caring for him getting the patio set up hoping that he’d bounce back enough, rally enough to go sit in the spring sun. He was too close to the end for that though.
So before I went I opened the Juliet doors a crack for some fresh air in his room and I told him how beautiful of a spring day it was. I told him how I’d fixed the patio up for spring, explaining all the little details so that he could feel like he was there.
The black and blue patio chairs that you can pull out to stretch your legs out.
The catio so that the cats could sit out there with us and they could daydream about catching birds.
The bird feeders that were attracting the most beautiful red wing blackbirds this year.
The females eating my suet within just a couple hours.
I told him how the pelicans like to swim to my side of the lake every afternoon.
How they fish like synchronized swimmers, in unison.
How the swallows dip and dive in the oncoming wind ahead of spring showers.
The snow on the mountain peaks and the quality of the light.
Have you ever seen the swallows dance
in the winds of an oncoming storm?
Floating up and down
Wings pressed into the wind.
Dancing diving Feasting
Dance swallow, dance.
I told him I was going to go sit outside and he could come with me if he wanted. I gave him his morphine, rubbing the outside of his cheek to help it soak in and laid a kiss on his forehead. Placing in his hand, a small stuffed animal cat replica of his kitten, Misty.
Then “we” stepped outside. I sat with my feet firmly planted on the ground. The waves of memory and grief washing through me as I watched the placid lake. I closed my eyes and for a time I sat that way. Allowing myself to feel. To imagine my dad there in the chair beside me with a Marlboro cigarette, tanned and shirtless. Remembering all the summers we sat like that, the smell of brisket and ribs on the grill. Boudin and the Elgin sausage from my hometown.
It reminded me of how my dad would always have music blasting. ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane, Bob Dylan, and so many more. I had been playing these same tunes for him on a Bluetooth speaker throughout the day. I spent a lot of that last week sitting at his bedside, telling him stories, reading his favorite Bible verses to him, telling him about all the things he did right. Forgiving him for all the things he did wrong.
While sitting there with the warm spring sun on my face I let it all be there. All be present with the experience I was having. I turned on my favorite calming station on Pandora so I could just listen and watch the wildlife on the lake.
When Peace Somehow came on, especially in this open and vulnerable state it brought on immediate tears of relief. My dad was a singer and a guitar player. He sang a cappella so I was no stranger to Avi or Pentatonix. I had introduced my dad to Pentatonix years earlier. It felt like my dad had found a way to speak to me that day. His message was that I could find him anytime I looked. deep in the mountains; deep in the trees. That as long as I was in nature we would be together and in that I would find my peace.
I stayed outside and sent my friends and family the music video too. Hoping that maybe it would connect us in some way. Maybe let them know I was okay, that I was finding peace.
I walked inside for the next round of meds. Sat with my dad and held his hand as I put the song on the bluetooth speaker. He squeezed my hand and we listened. When or what I said became a blur. A million I love yous and kisses on the forehead.
I don’t think the soul stays in the body. Once it’s done it’s out of here. A couple mornings later. On April 6th at 6:02 am I woke from a dream of my dad. I opened my eyes and my husband walked in the room. “He’s gone?” Yeah he’s gone… I knew without needing to be told. We always watched sunsets together but the truth is sunrises were his favorite. He stayed for one last one. With his cats, now mine curled up on his lap. His stuffed kitty cat in his hand. Alone. The way he would have wanted it. He was always a loner. He loved deeply but he cherished his alone time, as do I.
The sun had not fully risen so I called the hospice nurse and I took the cats onto our patio and we sat and watched the sunrise together. Peace Somehow playing on my earbuds as tears rolled down my cheeks.
I thought that the story ended there… but alas it did not. It’s been one year since my dad passed and I’ve just moved into a new home that I otherwise would not have had the opportunity to move into without his assistance. Today I decided to go explore my new area and took a walk down to the trail that meets up with my neighborhood. As I was walking a yellow chested bird landed on a pole in front of me and began furiously singing and chirping as if trying to get my attention. The heat haze causing the air to shimmer around it.
So, naturally I stopped and listened to his song. I watched him there and he looked back at me with one more chirp and flew away. As he did, I thought how... I always felt that birds coming to me like this were messages from my loved ones that have passed. As the bird took flight, Peace Somehow came on my earbuds. Tears streamed down my face as I listened and watched this beautiful yellow chested bird fly away.
As I was walking back toward home he flew back in front of me in that same spot. He alighted this time on a tall plant and we just stood there for awhile watching each other. One year apart these moments feel so connected. So real. I felt like it was my dad’s acknowledgment that I’d done well. That I could rest now. That I was finally home.
© Andrea Curran All Rights Reserved
“High on the mountain
Deep in the trees
Flow with the river
Fly on the breeze”
This essay was written based on a prompt from Stories from the Jukebox with MJ Polk
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I’ll leave the light on for you! Much Love — Andy
You've done well and you should rest now. An amazing story. Thank you, Andrea. Peace be with you.
Thank u Andrea . I had a similar experience with my husband , so i really felt this from my soul ! ❤️