The Last Conversation I Had with My Father
Wisdom from a modern-day mystic who didn’t know it
June 9, 2014 was the Monday before Father’s Day. That’s the last time my father and I talked, even though I saw him in my dreams last night. That hardly ever happens, so I’m sharing this story publicly for the first time.
In the months before our last conversation, I noticed something was different. Dad seemed distant, guarded. Something wasn’t right. Our weekly discussions lacked the typical depth to which I had grown accustomed. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt it and would soon learn why.
My father’s name in the school of life was Clifford Jones, Jr. I am Clifford the third. Dad was my hero, but he lived in Florida, far from where I raised my family in Arizona.
Even though we lived thousands of miles apart then, we were close. I’ve always despised traveling far from home, so we rarely spent much time together. That’s why our frequent phone conversations were precious.
Unconditional love and trust were the cornerstones of our relationship. Our conversations were typically deep and intimate regarding my marriage, my journey as a father, and, most of all, my struggles with my entrepreneurial life. Most of our conversations were a mutual exchange, but I often tipped the scale when talking…
