I heard somewhere that when a person dies that they actually experience three deaths. The first is when they stop breathing and their heart stops. The second is when their remains are given back to the earth; and the third is after the the last person alive ever thinks of them.

We lost my wife's father this last November, his name was Averill, and he was 82. Averill lived in a house above us, and he was a big part of our lives. He was cut from a cloth of honesty, loyalty, dedication, and old fashioned hard work. I could go on and on, and Averill deserves that, but he wouldn't want it. So I'll stop.

Sometimes, generally in warm breezy weather, (I don't know why) I think back to when my dad was alive. He and I were both young when cancer claimed him. I was five and he was twenty-nine when he heard his terminal verdict. Six years later he was gone. I re-live my memories of him over and over, because I guess that is all I have. My wife, Katrica, can't do that yet. The memories of her father don't give her comfort, only overwhelming grief.

I read on the news last month that Stephen Hawking, the smartest man in the world, proclaimed God to be irrelevant, and heaven to be simply a comforting a fairy tale. Forgive me if I take Hawking's assessment with a grain of salt; while Hawking may be a mathematical genius it doesn't make him a spiritual genius. And while scientists change their opinions and hypothesizes almost daily, the messages from our spiritual geniuses have stayed pretty consistent over the millenniums.

So what is the metaphysical truth? Well, the Nobel Prize winning poet William Butler Yeats once said “ We taste and feel and see the truth. We do not reason ourselves into it.” I'll put my money on Yeats, because I don't believe that all life simply ends in a one way trip into the abyss. It simply does not feel so, and I trust my gut over science any day.

So happy Father's Day Dad, and Averill, and although I can no longer touch you, I can still feel you. I can still hear your voices, giving me guidance and helping me down my own path. And as I look up to try to find you, I hope that you are looking down upon me, somewhere safe, and far away from Hawking's abyss.