qualited imageros

I've been hit this Christmas season by an array of 'paranormal' experiences. Specifically involving my father, six years deceased. Communicating verbally through rather esoteric music, which by trusting something so simple, I had gone out on a limb with my adamant nihilistic beliefs. As well as much more recent warm and electrifying touch.

My father had greatly expressed his desire for speaking with conviction, as he did in the physical life. He suggested many times, more noticeably than anything else, that I tell my mom how much he loves her, and most of all to say it as much as I meant it. Though I found myself coming up short of what my father wished, in a certain desperation, by a long shot. And he would not soon let me live down the importance of overcoming what ever retribution I thought I was facing. Some references in a humorous manner and others that flat out distressed me, even further by realizing I'M NOT 'DEAD,' and I could never comprehend the extent of his emotions for my mother. Still I waited, several days at the least. Until who I strongly believe was one of my closest family friends, a female with a gentle touch, which essentially made my sink feel like it was glowing. Today she reached out physically, for only the second time. We shared a few songs, including one by mere accident, which described the collective emotion flowing through us. Mishaps dictating a fair portion of the things we shared; agreeing there are no bad mistakes, simply a change of plans that may in fact turn out for the better (be it death itself, or clicking on the wrong internet tab).

There was no humanly way to contain the feelings that were now noticeably overflowing as I entered my mothers room. I did my best to be all that I could and try to convey so many things with a simple, "[They] I love you." (Actually as I write this down, I do catch a slight glimpse at what my father must have needed to condense in the first song we stumbled upon together.) Regardless of how I may have stood up to the test, I trembled. Yet in that very moment I recalled a random paragraph generator. Usually a jumbled mess, generally indecipherable; I found it essential to use it in that moment. What I got, drew me the closest towards fainting I had ever been or could ever hope to be, whilst my mother couldn't calm me:

"A wonder succeeds after the father. The pressure mandates the medium past the absent era. The reactionary swings after the warm. When can the quest pant? The honey frustrates the computerized reactionary."