Memoir Bytes – All the Light We Cannot See But Can Sometimes Sense

Memoir writing

I live in a building complex comprised of 3 buildings. Ironically, the building I live in is 2 over from the one my father lived in for years since he divorced my mother, until his death a quarter of a century ago.

Often I walk out onto my balcony overlooking a small forest to one side and a walking path to another. I can see directly through the trees to my father’s apartment balcony. Of course I think of my father every single day that passes as though the years of his absence in my life don’t mark time. But since I moved here almost 2 years ago, I feel him closer to me.

When I step out for a breath of fresh air on my balcony, I recall the many times my sister and I went to visit him, bringing him home-cooked meals to store in his freezer, and the pleading we used to do with him, begging him to eat healthy, for his love of junk food and his lost passion for living had escalated his cholesterol levels through the roof, which prompted his ultimate demise – death by instant, massive heart attack.

[bctt tweet=” #Memoir – We’re never far from those who’ve left us for the next world when we measure the distance with our hearts. D.G. Kaye” username=”pokercubster”]

Through the years, since my father’s departure from this earth, he has visited me many times. My inner knowing senses his presence. And he mostly shows up in my worst moments of despair, a comfort to me knowing he can hear me.

I can’t count how many times I’d sit on my balcony, staring directly at the balcony where he once lived, wondering how ironic it is that through all my moves around the city, I wound up living where my father had lived out the remainder of his life in solitude. Many times I’ll look down from my balcony and catch a glimpse of a man walking on the grounds with the same gait and posture as my father’s, and for a moment I wonder if that was him.


My dad’s portrait hangs proudly on my office wall, and I often catch myself glancing his way to take in his beautiful smile. And for that moment, it closes the distance between us, illuminating the part of me where I still carry our memories together, in my heart.

The one and only time I was transported in my dreams to visit him in heaven, stays with me in vivid sequence. It was a gift that helped me come to peace with myself for my tragic loss. I saw the light. I looked upon him still wearing the shroud he was buried in as I stood on a floorless ground with billowing white clouds. He reached out to me and spoke the words, “I love you” and comforted me when he told me he’s okay now, reminding me that he’d never be too far away from me.

I know he kept his word. And I know that it was that meeting I was gifted with that helped ease the heaviness in my heart. Although I was never invited back to that holy place again, I understood why. It was no longer necessary. I got my reassurance.

My father is always around me and he’s at peace, that was the message I needed to hear to help me let him go in my head and move my love for him to a new special place in my heart.

We don’t always see the light that beckons us to that other world, but even in darkness we carry the light within.

Quote We're Never Far from those we've lost, buried in our hearts


48 thoughts on “Memoir Bytes – All the Light We Cannot See But Can Sometimes Sense

      1. I often visit mediums, and have had messages from various deceased relatives to know that death is not the end. As you say, our deceased loved ones are close and help us when we need it most.


  1. A beautiful tribute to your dad. My parents were quite young when they passed. My mother at 55 and dad was 67. They say when ever you think about a loved one that has passed that person is there with you giving you a hug. At certain times if I am thinking about my mom I get the chills. She was a great hugger. How wonderful for you to live where your dad sprinkled his essence in this universe.


    1. Thanks so much Patricia for sharing your own story here too. Oh yes, no doubt, I feel my dad around often, that’s why in a way I still find it hard to believe how long he’s really been gone. πŸ™‚


    1. Thanks so much Mira. Yes, lol, I told you about ‘press this’ tool, it’s like a copy and paste tool from the web that puts an article right into your dashboard draft. πŸ™‚ Thanks again.


  2. Finally clicked on over here Debbie from your tweet today. I’ve been exploring more blogs that deal with writing and memoir. As for your post, beautifully written and evocative. As time goes by, certain ghosts in our lives are never far from us and time seems to fold back in on itself. Will stop in again! Jeanne @jeanneblombardo


  3. My dad’s photo is in my bedroom. Thanks for your sweet and sad memories of your dad–and how amazing that your can see his old balcony from yours. Life is a wonder.


    1. Thanks for sharing Jacqui. And you’re right, most likely it is your mother, we just know these things somehow. It’s so wonderful when we can still feel a bond with a loved one even when they’ve left this world. πŸ™‚


  4. This is such a touching post, Debby. Having read about your younger life, I know that your relationship with him was peppered with absences. It’s lovely that you feel his presence and love and have been able to integrate the special memories of that relationship in your heart.


  5. That’s a beautiful and touching post, Debby. It is strange how fate has brought you back to so very near to where your father used to live. I’m glad that you now no longer feel the heaviness in your heart that you once did.


  6. Moving post about your father, Debby. His smile shines out from the photograph and I can well see that his picture would be of some solace to you. I am not at all surprised that you saw and spoke to him after his passing – I have heard of this from family and friends many times. One man, very down to earth and not all mystical, said in a calm matter of fact manner that his wife, recently deceased would come and sit on the bed at night and just talk, of normal daily events. He found comfort and support…enjoy and treasure the view from your balcony, one shared with your father. Hugs, β™₯️


    1. Thanks so much Annika. I too have heard and read of many stories where a lost loved one visits after their departure. As someone who has experienced it many times with a few lost loved ones in my lifetime, I have no alternative than to believe. Those of us who get that opportunity are truly blessed. ❀


  7. impressive and emotional… after the ‘departure’ of people we loved and who loved us, they remain present in our heart(s), in spite of their physical absence…
    * * *
    my very best, tons of inspiration and merry holidays! ❀


  8. Oh Deb, your beautiful tribute to your memories of your dear, beloved father move me to tears. How amazing you live so close to where he once did, all those years ago. That moment you spent with him, in heaven, truly was the most priceless gift, one that will never leave you as your dad will never leave you. Ahh.. we have our memories and we had our darling dads, for a time. Lots of love my dear friend…wrapping you up in a huge hug too… ❀ ❀ ❀


    1. Thanks so much Sher. I know how much this post resonated with you. Like I said before, is it any wonder we’re kindred spirits??? Love you Sher. ❀ xoxoxo


  9. Such an impact of a read, Debby. I still believe that my Grandmother from my mother’s side of the family looks over me and guides me in my life. I’ve written about her a few time over on my blog and although she passed away over 20 years ago I know she’s with me everyday.


    1. Thank you Hugh. I’m sure there are many of us who strongly still feel a presence with a lost loved one. We are fortunate that we can sense them and still feel that comfort from them. ❀


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