I *will* see you again, but not yet . . . not yet

I had the weirdest sensation a little earlier this afternoon. I was upstairs in the kitchen. It was . . . oh . . . maybe around 2:15 PM. Hadn't eaten lunch and was just noticing the grumbling stomach, and the sensation that I was actually kinda hungry. Imagine that, huh? But just to clarify: the hunger wasn't the "weirdest sensation." ;)

As I was poking and prodding whatever was in the fridge and rummaging through the stuff in the pantry to see what looked tasty, it occurred to me. Not only did I realize I needed to go grocery shopping, I felt I needed to stop what I was currently doing for something much more important.

See, I'd suddenly felt like making an important phone call, and I had to do it right at that very moment. Without even thinking about it, I turned toward the counter where a cordless phone is keeping its post in the kitchen. As I walked to the phone, I was thinking about how nice it would be to talk to Sir Rafa today, as it's been way too long since I last heard his voice. The thought of having a conversation with him brought a smile to my face on my way to the phone. I walked, wondering what kind of funny thing he'd say today - what Sir Rafa-ism would come out of his mouth to grace my ears. This instinct I had, this impulse to call - it was my missing the sound of his voice, his humor; this urge to call him was incredibly strong - I had to call him now.

Then reality hit me in the gut. Sir Rafa passed away on 9 Oct 2008. If I were to have called, I would've been calling an empty house. I stood there on the verge of tears at remembering the loss - it was as though it'd happened last week - yet at the same time, I had a smile on my face, nearly laughing at the idea that I'd been moments away from actually trying to call him, even though he'd left our physical world over a year ago.

Can you believe that?! I could almost hear his voice as I went for the phone. It was kinda like going to the airport and waiting in the baggage claim area for a friend or loved one - someone you haven't seen for a while, and you are just so excited, you can barely wait to see that person, whether it's been weeks or months, or even years. And at any moment, you'll see that familiar face, hear that familiar voice, and you know it'll be just like old times. You're just waiting for that "ahhhh" moment.

I was going to say it was like going to your favorite restaurant and ordering some dish that you love - and as you see the server carrying your plate to your table, your mouth is salivating at the thought that you're going to bite into something tasty in just one moment . . . this analogy came to mind because I'm actually still hungry. Toasted corn tortillas didn't quite hit the spot like I'd hoped they would. Nor did the analogy quite hit the literary spot like I expected it would.

Anyway, there it is. The feeling came, and then it went.

And I can't overlook the fact that today is Oma's birthday, and feeling sure of the fact that there is no such thing as coincidence.

As I sit here at the computer, looking at an old photo of Sir Rafa, I'd like close by paraphrasing that line from the Russell Crowe "Gladiator" movie: I will see you again, but not yet . . . not yet.