I had been angry with my father for years. I blamed him for my mother's suffering. We hadn't talk to each other since her death, when I forbade him to carry her coffin. My sister mentioned him from time to time, but I pretended not to care about him. One day I discovered that my voice had gone away, that I could just moan. I looked at myself in the mirror only to find a pair of hollow eyes avoiding mine. That day I was informed that he was unwell and had been hospitalized.
Don't ask me why, but the next morning I sat on my chair and visualized myself, flying in a bubble, all the way to the hospital to visit him. I talked to him as if I were really in the room, explaining that I had understood he had done his best, and that I loved him. An hour later I received a text message - Dad's dead.
The years have put words to what happened to me at that moment. You can call it a coincidence, a dream, a release of karma, but i still feel in my heart the blessing of having been able to verbalize my emotions, and understand that my parents' isuues were not mine; I was only the child. I also know that you can only trust what your heart says.