There are situations in life where something so huge happens and then we’re left with wondering, “what does it all mean?” I’m about to share with you my wonder based on a spontaneous drive to Grand Forks, ND. It’s rare me and that husband of mine ever go to Grand Forks.
Without getting into the boring details, we were both stricken with a virus that will remain unnamed though you’re likely smart enough to guess. I lost partial taste. He kept his but lost his entire appetite. This past Saturday, still not feeling 100 percent but eager to continue living – we opted for a road trip to Grand Forks. We wandered around thrift storing.
We stopped for high priced, bitter coffee only because we needed something to eat with our meds. After hanging out in downtown East Grand Forks for a bit – we agreed on the Olive Garden for lunch. It was our first divine meal in two weeks. Up until then – we were sipping chicken broth and eating cut fruit. We put the Olive Garden into our GPS and before we knew it – we were being seated.
Husband and I bantered back and forth about world events and family things. His lasagna and my blackened chicken alfredo got delivered with endless salad and bread sticks when all I did was look up diagonally to my right. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I nearly choked as my breath literally got stolen from me! My Dad has been dead for over 20 years but I clearly saw him sitting across the restaurant in a booth. He wasn’t a ghost. I couldn’t eat though my stomach was excited to. I kept studying the man. He had the same exact hairline as my dad. He had the same neck and cheekbones and his slim build was the proof to it all for me. I simply had to get closer. I thought that if I’d get closer, I’d see I was mistaken. Just the opposite happened. As I approached, the resemblance to my dead Dad became stronger and more apparent. As I approached his booth – hidden from my original vision – I saw a woman sitting with and across from him. I excused my intrusion on their meal and said, “You may have seen or felt me staring at you from over there because you aren’t just the spitting image of my now deceased father, you are the exact spitting image of my father!”
The man told me he was honored. Next, he did something that was so very accommodating and extremely, brilliantly kind. He began asking me questions about my Dad. I’m certain that he could sense the fright in my delight at their resemblance! The man shared that he is 71 years old. He asked me how old my Dad was when he passed. I shared my paternal and fraternal family names in hopes there was a familiar connection because surely I felt there must be. A long-lost cousin? A family member once removed perhaps? There wasn’t any connection to speak of. For a fleeting moment, I felt silly for even walking over. I also know that when these situations arise – and when I am moved to act on them – they always mean more. Keep in mind – I never once introduced myself. But in another rendition of, “The weirdness that follows Jodi Rae”- just then his wife asked, “Are you the Blonde on the Prairie?
I lost my entire ability to speak and it had nothing to do with the virus! I just stared for a few seconds which felt like a decade because it’s so rare for me not to speak immediately when asked a question. How could she know that? We were in a city we rarely ever travel to. When my brain slowed from wobbling, I heard the man who looks just like my deceased Dad say, “If it’s you – you need to know that she’s your biggest fan, really!”
She reads my weekly column in the Devils Lake Journal though they live somewhere else other than Grand Forks. And remember – I hardly ever go to Grand Forks. So I said something like, “I have no idea what just happened or what it all means – but it was my pleasure to meet you both. My name is Jodi Rae Ingstad. Please enjoy your meal.”
They told me their names but in my virus-ridden brain fog and shock at seeing my Dad – I forgot it. I turned to walk away back towards our booth. As I did – I whispered, “Hi Dad.” I took most of my chicken alfredo to go. I can’t eat when my brain is wobbling from the wowness of it all.
What does it all mean?
It’s been said that “everyone has a twin.” I found my dear Dad’s. It more importantly means, “God winks at those who notice.” A reminder just when we need one.
I hope He chooses to wink the symptoms of this virus away soon. Uffda!
