Missing Dad

Today is the third anniversary of Dad's death. We celebrate his birth and his life, but we can never forget that afternoon three years ago that Dad left us.

In many ways, I'm grateful for my own writings from that time; while I remember the details and the events, it's my own contemporaneous narratives that help me keep the events in order, help me to see the bigger picture.

And now more than ever I'm so happy for those posts I made about Dad prior to July 29th, when we thought we had many more years to share. They are sometimes happy, sometimes sad, but they remind me of the joys that we took for granted.

Emily said it far better than I, in the pages of Thornton Wilder's Our Town:

"Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?"

Good night, Mom and Dad. I think of you every day, and I wish you were here with me.

Dreams and Portents

Ever had a dream strange enough that you found yourself wondering, after awakening, if there was some meaning buried in the surreal events?

Last night I dreamt that I went into my garage and found a strange car there. Even though I had never seen it before, I opened the door, got in the car, pulled the keys from my pocket, and began driving. I was soon on a roadway overshadowed by heavy, darkly leafed, overhanging trees. I drove seemingly for hours, then arrived at a hotel that appeared small and old, but actually had 14 floors of rooms... or more.

Without asking anyone where I should go, I got in the elevator and stopped on a floor located midway between 13 and 14.

Mom and Dad were there, as was my cousin Frank and other people who were in shadows. They told me that my cake wasn't ready, but Frank said that he was making french fries to hold us over. The fries were almost ready. We smiled at each other for a few moments, saying very little but glad to see one another; then he removed the fries and divided them for the two of us.

And I munched on fries and talked with Mom and Dad for a while, again quite pleased to see them again. We never talked about life or death, just about joy and sorrow. Again, they told me the cake was so very close to being ready, but not quite yet.

And then I awoke.