There You Are

I often wonder what my next post will be about. Sometimes I want to post but have nothing to really say. Instead of rambling I tend to create draft posts that sometimes never get published.

Other times you wake up and just know what your next post will be about. When I recommitted myself to my blog I said I would eventually get around to talking about my Dad. This is not an easy topic for me. Ask the few friends I've confided in about how I feel about talking about my Dad...I'm usually quick to choke up and say "I don't want to talk anymore." I'm honest about it, I don't hide it, but I don't think it's the most therapeutic. The one night I did decide to talk about it ... I ended up crying for hours, feeling even more sadness and confusion and looked like pure hell the next morning. I could barely open my eyes to feed Emory in the middle of the night because my eye lids were so swollen from crying. 

Baby steps...isn't that what they say? Two steps forward, one step back? Does your heart ever really heal? Does the sadness ever really go away? Do you ever stop missing him?

Last night I saw my Dad...for the first time since I said good bye to him. 

In my dream I was coming home. I could see my Dad through the window and I couldn't wait to get inside to give him a hug. In my dream, he hadn't died but he was obviously sick. He was sitting on the couch, wearing a plain white t-shirt. I remember trying not to cry as I gave him the biggest hug. He looked so good. I told him how good he looked and commented that he had gotten a hair cut. I asked him if he felt as good as he looked. 

Side note: My Dad had a way of pausing and looking away before giving you a genuine answer.

When I asked him if he felt as good as he looked, he paused and looked away. Then he slowly looked back at me and said "Yes."

Next thing I know I'm waking to a crying baby and I was half way to the kitchen before I realized what had just happened. 

I saw my Dad. For the first time in 15 weeks and 3 days. And he looked really good. 

I kept replaying the dream over and over in my head. I didn't want to forget a single moment of it. I still don't.  Everything was right in my dream...down to the right shade of brown hair with hints of grey through his sideburns. He was thinner than the old Poppy was (pre-cancer Poppy) but he was there...it was him, all of him. He wasn't confused, spoke clearly, and wasn't in and out of consciousness like he was in the last few weeks of his life. 

I can't tell you how many times I've wished to see him...even if in my dreams. In true Poppy fashion, he came to me when I didn't know I needed him to but I'm so glad he did.