Yesterday I did something I don't think I've ever done.
I called my dad just to hear his voice. I didn't have anything to talk about, I just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.
It was one of those days where I felt surrounded and hounded by the pressures of the present. It was like I couldn't see anything beyond what was right in front of my face...I couldn't hear anything but noise in my head picking up reverb with every minute that passed. I just felt a need to connect with my father. His voice instead of my noise. His familiar and familial sound instead of the ground and pound in the octagon of my office. So I called.
The minute I heard him answer the phone, I knew why my heart needed to hear him speak. I didn't need to hear him saying anything in particular, I just needed to listen to him talk. I needed to be reminded of my beginnings. I needed to connect with the place and person I came from, the foundations of my identity, the DNA I often forget that flows in my veins and in my brain. I talked a bit, but mostly I listened. I let him talk about anything he wanted to share. I didn't care what it was, it didn't matter--all I needed was his voice.
I got up the nerve to tell him, too. As we finished our conversation I said: "Dad, I called today just to hear your voice. I felt like I needed to hear it for some reason." I could tell he was taken aback a little, but he responded with affirmation and how good it is for him to hear my voice as well. I wish I could have seen his face, but he lives 9 hours away, so his voice is all I can access. But it's enough.
As we said our goodbyes he said, "I love you very much, Jay."
I think that's what I need to hear...someone that knows to call me "Jay". The boy connected with the dad. The son connected to the father. This voice that echoes through my life today.