I’ve kept this to myself for more than a year and at the risk of sounding completely delusional, I’ve decided to share my secret, I talk to flies. Not so bad? OK, it gets weirder… I talk to my dad as a fly. Yep, I warned you, now hold your judgement and let me explain.
I know a lot of people who see signs, symbols or animals and remember a loved one. Most of the time I hear butterflies or cardinals, usually creatures with less filthy and annoying reputations. My dad always wished he had the ability to fly and beginning with the day he passed it seemed he was communicating literally as a fly. After battling a cancer that ate away at his bones, robbed his ability to move comfortably and provided a hellish amount of pain, he was finally free to fly.
The police arrived after his last breath before 4 AM, a fly flew in with them. It was early spring and the first fly I had seen that year rested on the ceiling in his bedroom as I sat with my mom, numb from the previous year leading up to that moment.
Breaking the empty silence, “I still want to go on the family vacation we talked about,” Mom said. We had been trying to keep my dad encouraged during his illness by talk of taking a big trip to Machu Picchu, a place he had always wanted to see. We promised him we would all go when he regained his health, as we all believed he would. The fly took off from the ceiling and circled around the room several times before landing again. Half joking, I identified the fly as “Dad” and stated he was showing his support of us going.
Over the months that followed, I continued to have symbolic moments with flies. Times when I was overwhelmed with sorrow, flies seemed to appear in the most unlikely or random places. I didn’t associate all flies with my dad and there was some frustration within myself for even recognizing the connection an insect could have with someone I admired so much. Generally, the disgust I had for flies and what they represented before, turned to comfort and humor when I needed it during the darkest moments of grief. An early fly memory was watching as the creature floundered in flight, wobbling like a drunk as if it were learning to fly brought a smile. I lost my natural instinct to swat away flies and instead forced me to tune into the present in those moments they appeared.
Six months after his death, I dreaded my parent’s anniversary. I knew it would be unbearable for my mom and I figured she wouldn’t want anyone around. The hopelessness I felt during his illness returned with the hopelessness I had knowing there was nothing I could do to help my mom. For the better half of the day I debated whether I should bring her the roses I knew my dad would have brought to her as he did every year. I agonized, cried and could not turn my thoughts to anything else as I sat at my kitchen table confused. Of course a fly appeared and circled around me, maybe out of anger he wasn’t physically present and my mom was suffering, I left for the opposite corner of the house to let my tears continue to flow. The damn fly immediately followed and rested on the ceiling above my head. For the first time in six months I spoke to the fly, to my dad. “Do you want me to bring her roses,” I asked. The fly left the ceiling and flew into my raw wet cheek. “Fine Dad, I will go get them.” I can’t imagine they helped Mom much that day, but Dad wanted her to have them.
Without hearing his words, the fly has been his form of communication to quiet my emotion, to remind me to breathe, at times to let me know his disapproval and more than anything to signal he is and always will be with me. As strange as I know it is, I accept my bizarre connection to this six-legged, giant eyed buzzing creature.
This past summer my uncle also passed. My cousin, sister and I all decided to get a tattoo for our dads, likely one of the last things they would have wanted us to do for them. My uncle even told his daughters “tattoos are like putting a bumper sticker on a Cadillac.” I guess I think of my body as more of a Volkswagen bus with a statement to make. Of all the words or imagines I debated to use as a tribute to my dad, one thing seemed make the most sense. The fly sits high on my left femur, the bone which broke on my dad’s way to being able to fly.
Happy Birthday Dad, the flies are not much of a substitute for being able to see you, talk to you and feel your hug. I appreciate them either way. You are free from pain and at peace now, I miss you today and always.
The kids were intrigued by the kitchen set-up in the basement of the home. I quizzed them on where traditional kitchen equipment was located to help them discover how they would wash dishes, keep food cold and cook. The woman working in the kitchen was patient to show them the inside of the wood burning stove, how coffee was made, to answer their inquisitive minds and offer them cookies which were made in the kitchen. I was alarmed at the thoughtfulness of the questions the kids were asking, considering how could they see with no electricity? The hostess showed them lanterns and demonstrated how it took the place of lights.
horses were harnessed up to another stagecoach we took a ride all to ourselves. The kids bounced along looking out the windows with silent gleeful smiles until Parker interrupted with “This is the best day ever.”
friendly camp counselors aimed us on path to hike. The path took us over a marshy area with a long wooden boardwalk and lead to prairie and forest areas. With the heat and hungry irritability, we decided we had seen enough and retreated to the cabin to collect our passport stamp. Inside the kids not only got a stamp, they got to select a small nature figurine. Parker got a turtle while Jones picked up a plastic ant to take home and fool Mom when she walked in the door.
times I’ve driven right by it and never paid attention. This discovery center has both indoor and outdoor adventures to explore. Inside there were classrooms (I imagine were for scout meetings, field trips and summer camps) filled with nature experimentation and live animals. On a separate wing of the building we could hear the high energy fun of a group of day campers. A gift shop and information counter are to the right at the entrance for anyone looking for information on wildlife, plants and conservation. The person at the information desk was excited to greet the kids and patiently answered their four and five year old questions, she also offered each kid an animal temporary tattoo. The building had a formal presentation area facing a wall of windows where my two adventurers found entertainment in performing dances and songs to an audience of one after our hike outdoors. The building also is an example for sustainable features like geothermal and water waste systems. 
spray and bottles of water to stay comfortable in the heat. Because of the tree coverage and small breeze the June temperature didn’t feel as bad as I dreaded. We listened to the sounds of nature, climbed on logs and held hands until their little legs were tired and then we went to explore the nature center.
sweet fruity fragrance I had engraved in my childhood memory bank from the back corner of our yard in Minnesota. It was refreshing to crouch down and search deep into the leaves to find the most perfectly ripe fruit others had passed by. I had forgotten completely about the little white flowers on the plants and the method to plucking with the stem. Like some new adventures, Parker was hesitant at first and then enthusiastically joined in the hunt. When I noticed she had a tendency to choose tiny berries which were far from ripe, as she has an undeniable preference for tiny things… I asked her to nibble on one and tell me if she would like to eat more. Her pre-prepared it tastes good mom nodding smile turned to a bitter tongue out frown and her strawberry picking greatly improved instantly.
Inspired Living KC 