“We hate you” a member of the first group I attended in The Villages announced.
I had just told them I was turning 55 in November. Many people already said I looked too young to live here, so I was trying to fit in. It didn’t work.
I was really excited to go to the messages from beyond group, I was sure I would find likeminded, open-minded, spiritual friends. I hoped for a reading too. I found none of that.
The group leader had no psychic abilities, was not sure if there was a God, and was filled with negativity. She did not know the two most popular mediums in the world, who bring messages from the other side and have written many books about the subject.
She said it was a safe place at the start, so I had opened up about how my dad communicates through mediums and how reassuring it is when I hear a song or see his numbers on a receipt.
The woman who was jealous of my age, and whatever else, also trashed one of her family members for being a born again Christian. The group leader had already rolled her eyes at those who have near death experiences and see Jesus.
This ignorance and lack of welcoming hurt me, especially because it has been hard for me to go out and meet people. I have been living like a refugee for months.
I wanted a message from my father. I wanted to know what to write about.
Luckily, my dad pulled through as always.
I woke up thinking about our tradition of a kick line to ‘New York New York’ at the end of family gatherings.
Maybe I will try to write about the good times, I thought, dragging my sleepless self out of bed at 5 a.m. I also had repetitive thoughts of putting the clock radio on my new desk, so I brought it out with me, and put it on.
‘New York, New York’ was playing!
“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere” sang Frank Sinatra, my father’s favorite artist.
It was a little loud and early, and I wondered what the neighbors thought, but I left it on to fully savor the experience, and feel the love.
I did a few solo kicks to let the deejay know I got the message.