I wrote this several weeks ago and was not planning to publicly share it. I am being asked to now and so here it is... May whoever is in need of reading these words, enjoy and be lifted. xo ~ Mary
Love Language of My Father
My Dad was not one to be “available” to any of my siblings or myself while on this Earth in this lifetime. His irrationality and emotional immaturity created challenges for each of us in our individual relationships with him, our Mothers, and our family as a whole. Though I knew he loved me. And I loved him. And months on end throughout my life in order to keep my sanity and emotional balance I put distance between myself and speaking or seeing him in person.
Dad passed away in November of 2016. His departure date fell halfway between my older sister’s birthday and my own, as we each celebrate our births in the month of November, also.
Dad began making appearances in my dreams over the months and years since. He has played important roles in each of these dreams that have had significant soul evolving themes for me to work through. In all but one of these dreams, he never spoke to me. He would silently support the unfolding of scenarios in which I have been able to discover deeper truths of the universe and my own inner workings.
The dream in which Dad finally spoke to me was the instance where a group of mobsters had taken an airplane and its passengers hostage. This was a privately chartered plane and there were less than ten total people on this flight. And the bad guys taking over were three individuals that I recall. They demanded I take the captain’s seat and land this plane.
I know nothing about flying an airplane. In this moment of being forced to pull off this feat, I was panicked. My Dad just happened to be there. I don’t know if he was with me prior to this moment. I believe he just showed up and stood next to me and told me he could help talk me through this process of touching down to the ground safely.
I was terrified that our plane was passing over a highly populated residential city. My main goal was to not land on top of human life and especially the children I knew were below us.
In my real life with Tom Ryan if I ever mustered the courage to ask him for advice or instruction of any kind his methodology in “helping” or teaching was grueling emotionally and technically.
As mentioned earlier, the soul of Tom Ryan that had been showing up as different characters in my dream time had remained completely silent and typically standing back on the sidelines, observing me and my actions, or without speaking -pointing or directing my attention to certain details of each scene.
In this moment of crisis and distress in this dream taking place, my Dad spoke to me for the first time since passing from this earth plane. He was kind. He was patient. He was assuring.
This new comportment I am unfamiliar with associated with Tom Ryan was refreshingly unexpected, welcomed, and a relief.
He instructed me calmly and in un-rushed detail with reassurance despite my trepidation. Also striking to me was my Dad’s confidence and respect for me in my current position I’d been forced into. He was absent of belittling language and attitude. We were equal in our desire to safely and successfully accomplish this sudden unexpected demand of me.
Dad talked me through each detail upon detail in keeping our craft in control and getting into position to emergency land, poising us to touch down on to a wide-open grassy area that would not harm children or other humans. And as we were within a few minutes of our actually touching down to the ground Dad motioned with additional patience and kindness to move from my position in captain’s seat and he would bring this plane down for us.
My Dad was my hero.
He was not seeking my praise or thanks. He simply stepped in when and how I needed him most.
Dreaming states and eyes wide open with my Dad’s energy have become blurred, or perhaps one and the same. He still is much of an enigma in my fifty-three years of life as Mary Lydia Ryan. And as I analyze this I see his consistency in playing his role both in the flesh and in the etheric realms in his interactions with me.
Just last week as I shared with a close friend numerous recent experiences with my usual birds of prey and bat messengers foretelling of events to come, I realized how beautifully and significantly these birds interconnect with my Father’s energy.
Back in late February, I was shown a scene on our neighborhood bridge with a falcon ripping out feathers from his prey and raining them down over the bridge in the spot in which I was walking. The physical reality of this scene playing out had been foretold to me by a shaman four years prior. I recognized as this scene played out before my eyes this was the physical marker of mine and humanity's evolution into leaving our old paradigm and entering the new.
This marker, this scene, was nothing short of miraculous and magical to have witnessed. I acknowledged this falcon that had presented as my messenger was a beautiful divine gift sent personally to me. I remain in awe of this revelation.
When retelling this scene to my friend last week, describing the falcon and recognizing he represented inter-dimensional wisdom she also noted the falcon specifically is the fastest flying bird of prey on planet Earth. “They are able to keep up with airplanes” she shared from her search of flight speed available to falcons specifically.
As I continued to contemplate the falcon, then slept on my retelling and sharing of this story with my friend, recollecting my gratitude for this falcon messenger in particular along with other recent birds and a dying bat placed in my pathway in the last few months I suddenly felt and saw a new awareness and appreciation of this falcon - the creature that is able to fly as speedily as an airplane, holds the ability to fly along with my Dad in the sky…. My Dad…. the airline captain that was ever elusive in my ability to connect within a comforting emotional way while he was my Father, and up until this flight crisis dream of mine.
What if my Dad’s soul was communicating with me through even a brief moment, the actions of a falcon?
Tears welled up and streamed down my face as I made this beautiful connection.
I felt closer to my Dad again. The question, what if he is still watching over and even more so than while in the flesh, protecting me even if still from a distance, allowing me the space to learn and grow and him not spoon-feeding me that answers, but hovering close enough that he can see me, hear me, and is available when I most need him has clearly formed.
The following morning I paddled on my sup board over to my favorite park accessible by Lake Union which is my front yard. This is where I go to commune with nature, sit still on my paddleboard, often times lying down to become one with the water and air surrounded by the turtles and Great Blue Herons, Bald Eagles overhead, the otters that flip and flit between the reeds and lily pads tormenting the baby ducks and their mothers.
I heard a bird whistle coming from far off in the distance and couldn’t make out which direction it was calling from. Minutes later I had located the falcon perched way up on a light post attached to the 520 freeway. I slowly, methodically, just sitting down cross-legged on my board so as not to scare or startle this bird I wanted so badly to get as close as possible to, made my way across the lake to where I could catch a better glimpse of this magnificent creature.
Whistling and taunting this entire distance, within arriving at what I guess to be sixty feet away from a better perspective to observe this bird he flew away.
I sobbed. I cried out “Dad!! Why can I never get close to you?? Why do you continually fly away from me when I feel I am just about to get close? I need you, again, more than ever before!!”
As I continued to sob and feel sadness a very long commercial truck up on the freeway at freeway speed passed by my view that read “[something] Western.” I didn’t catch the first word of this company name as I was struck by the “Western” portion of the company name advertised on the side of the truck. Of course, I was seeing “Western” in association with my Dad [he commercially flew for Western Airlines for thirty years until they were acquisitioned by Delta Airlines] and my moment I was experiencing of this reality and reaching into the spiritual realm and asking and seeking and hoping and longing and pleading for help and guidance and reassurance that I will continue to be safe and sane through all that is currently happening on our planet as we separate from our old paradigm and connect as a human race to the new…
As tears flowed and I felt alone, the falcon returned. He had lunch in his beak. He perched again on top of this light post and ate his lunch. He didn’t seem to notice me. Yet seeing this presence return, and continuing on in his taking care of his present need to eat, I felt comforted.
I sang to the falcon. I thanked him for returning even if it was just to perch there and eat. I was grateful.
He flew off when he was finished. I paddled back over to my previous spot amongst the herons and turtles, dragonflies, otters, ducks, and geese. I sang to all of them. I thanked them for providing this calm and beauty amidst the chaos of the humans. I sang my gratitude. I sang, “You are beautiful,” over and over and over. I chanted my daily chants I have added into my spiritual ritual. I felt calmed and ready to face life again.
Two hours later back at my home, while enjoying tea and conversation with a good friend that recently moved into my houseboat neighborhood, Cien [my son] called me from inside our house telling me two birds were inside, upstairs and watching him. Surprised, I ran up the stairs to see them, startled them in the process. They flew around our upstairs a bit, seeming confused. They certainly could not figure out an escape path.
Cien’s gentle presence reunited the two up in my bedroom. They perched next to each other on our banister two feet from our bedroom windows. They chirped for a few seconds then turned and together flew out the window I am guessing they flew in from, to begin with.
In all the excitement I hadn’t noticed they had left “a gift” for me on my side of the bed. I wish I had taken a photo of the scene. It was a strewn apart bug carcass. Each wing was neatly laid out, perfectly with the left wing and the right wing in exact positions they would have been if still intact with their body. Both legs were left down below where they should have been. There just was no body to be found. The actual body, the torso, was completely missing. I was stunned.
Then fast forward another couple of hours, I had been in and out of our hot tub on the deck enjoying the passers-by on the lake, this sunshiney day, reading while sunbathing then enjoying a little soaking in the hot tub. I ran into the house for water. When I returned to the hot tub a half-eaten fish had been left on the side for me to find.
Again quite surprised, my first thought was “why are these birds leaving torn apart carcasses for me??”
I relayed this story to a couple of my friends in telephone conversations and they both saw these gestures as the birds having left gifts for me. My friend who had been here earlier when the birds flew into our house commented “you went to their home this morning and sang to them. They found you in your home to sing to you and thank you.”
And as I am concluding this retelling of these recent stories, an airplane is flying overhead that I can hear.
Dad, I feel you near. You may be elusive, though I know you care.
It seems your character you continue to play out in my existence is that of teacher from a distance. You present scenes in which I am challenged and continue to learn and evolve because of.
I still have your memorial set out on my bedroom table I photographed last week. I snapped a photo of the yellowing paper since your air force graduation announcement from 1950, ceremony to take place September 15th, at “ten thirty o’clock” as it reads. I am intrigued by the choice of thin paper used in this announcement that is an engraved spider’s web, inclusive of an image of a spider weaving this web and a captive insect having been trapped inside this web.
I also snapped a photo of the inside of your memorial program. “Memories and ‘Eternal Perspective’” to be presented by Kent Ryan (Son). As Kent is the most recent sibling of mine to have passed from this world into the spirit realm, joining you and the others that have departed, I give pause to the significance here also.
The symbolism of this and everything associated with you continues to amaze and intrigue.
I am watching and remaining alert for each and every symbol, message, reminder of love, and insight you will continue to drop into my path of awareness.
I thank you for continuing to watch over me, especially during these beautiful and chaotic times.
And in every falcon that flies into my sight, I see you and know you are near.