I’ve written about religion a few times over the years, but I don’t really like doing it. I know what I like about religion and the bible and that’s it. Whenever you write about religion or politics you get a bunch of people that start spouting opinions. And the stupider the person the louder they are, and unfortunately I attract a crowd that is a few DNA strands away from being a mongoloid. My apologies to anyone reading that has an enlarged head.
In November of 2005 my dad passed away, we’re coming up on eleven years now. When he first passed, I saw him everywhere. I’d go to a mall and there would be a guy who could’ve been his clone. Same shirt, jeans, hair color, and glasses. It would weird me out.
When my son was born, he would see things, and unseen people would talk to him. It really worried members of my wife’s family at first. An example, he would complain about a guy named Chet who would roughhouse with him when he was two or three. He never met a Chet. Find out later that my Uncle Chet had died on my son’s first or second birthday.
Right around the fourth or fifth anniversary of my father’s death, I was feeling very bluesy. I didn’t say anything to anyone but felt out of sorts. I’m driving to the store and my son says, “Hey, dad.” I say, “Yeah?” “Grandpa Tom is doing well.” I almost shit.
For a few years, anytime my son would see a religious painting or statue, he would stop, nod his head and mumble. I don’t know what the conversations were or what he heard, because the less I know, the less freaked I was. Then when he turned five . . . it all disappeared. No more invisible friends, no more debates with statues, nothing. The hardest thing about this was, where do you go for help? This kind of thing isn’t in many childcare manuals.
I think the weirdest thing that happened, and it happened on two different occasions, was driving down the street shortly after my dad died, talking to my wife about my dad. I don’t know if it was good or bad, it could’ve been, “Why didn’t he leave me and my brother a thing?” or maybe it was “I miss him,” don’t know. Anyway, we’re driving with the windows up and all at once the car fills with the scent of roses. So much so I turn to look in the backseat to see if there was a bouquet that I hadn’t seen before. Then just as quick as it came it disappeared. And my son says, “That was beautiful.”
Then, almost the same exact thing happened six months later, I was talking about how I had met Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes, and how I went to call my dad to tell him, but as soon as I picked up the phone it clicked that he was gone. At that moment the car filled with the scent of roses again.
People have told me over the years that smelling roses when there aren’t any is a sign from the Virgin Mary, me, I think it’s a sign that I’m starting to lose my mind!