Monday, June 27, 2016

A Letter to My Father After a Dream

I woke with a shortness of breath that you had stolen from me in my dreams. You were sitting at a cafe table across from me, al fresco, in the middle of a lush green field. The metal table and chairs where white and fragile. The sun was shining warm on our skin and you were smiling. You were younger than when I last saw you, healthy with no signs of illness. Your form was still broad and tall, but you were much thinner and more comfortable in your body than you were in those last years. We were talking comfortably and you were giving me advice and inquiring about everyone. I had a feeling of contentment and although it should have shocked me you were there, it didn't.

I woke up slowly, suspended between consciousness and a dream trance, and I remember thinking...wait, what are you doing here? You are gone from me. You are gone from this world. You have passed to the other side of forever while I am still here on this side. As I became more aware of my waking, you smiled warmly and waved. Vapor and air and fog filled in where you were sitting and left me there alone again, the sun behind a cloud and a chill in the air.

I wish I could remember our conversation. I am certain this was an encounter and not just a dream. You were there, I am certain of it. Until our next visit, I will hold on to the warmness you filled me with. It was healing and reminiscent of the days you used to wrap me in your huge arms when I was scared as a child. Always there to protect me, watching over me.

Until next time, Dad...

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