Last night was a rough night.
It all started simply enough. I was riding my brand new mountain bike through some woody areas near my parents’ house and decided to pop in and see Mom. Mom wasn’t there, so I just wandered around a little. I went out to my Dad’s old office – a large rec room, built onto the garage, where he did all his work. Everything in there looked the same as it had always looked, but with more dust on everything. The memories were so strong, I had to leave.
As I turned to go back into the garage, I saw something I never thought I would. By the doorway, washing his hands in his workshop sink was my Dad himself. Looking back on it, I can see it all so clearly – every minute detail – but in the moment, all I knew was that I was hurtling across the room to where he was, as he grinned his goofy grin and splashed water from the sink at me. He was standing there in his usual white t-shirt and jeans, with his old black belt and his trusty pocketknife strapped on, as if he’d never been away. With tears streaming down my face I ran into his arms, so happy that I thought I might drop – and my arms closed on empty air.
I stood there, breathing hard, trying to figure out what happened. As I did, he reappeared before me, hazy and still smiling. He was only there for a moment and as I watched, he faded. I was alone in the garage, with nothing but dust motes and a crushing sense of loss and dismay.
I’m not sure when I started crying – before or after I woke up from the lovely nightmare. I’m not sure how long I sat there in bed, hysterically sobbing and hiccupping before I realized that it even was a dream. It was so crystal clear in my mind, so brutally real – the colors and the light and the sounds and I could smell his pipe tobacco for several minutes after I woke up.
It hurt so badly to lose him the first time, a year and a half ago and then to lose him again in just a few moments in a dream on a stormy night. Awesome Boyfriend held me for what felt like hours, until I managed to get a grip on myself and form rational thoughts. After an hour or so, I even managed to go back to sleep, too exhausted to dream – most thankfully.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized something that had been in the back of my mind since I woke up – he was healthy in my dream. For the first time in all of the vivid, heartbreaking dreams of my dad since his death, he wasn’t sick and wasted or confused and upset. He was well and whole and happy.
In some part of my mind, as hard as it is to realize it, I think I’m becoming whole and healthy again, too.
