Visiting My Dad
My Dad fishing a farm pond in Virginia
My Dad and I have visited a few times in my dreams. It is always good to see him, to spend time with him, but the time is always too short. I often realize near the end that I am only dreaming, but it feels so very real. I ask myself if it matters that it is a dream. Right now, right here, this is real. The memory will be as real as any other memory I have of him.
After one of these dreams I am always anxious to see him again. I don’t know how things will be when I am gone. If anyone will remember me or dream of me, but I realize this is a silly concern. What does it really matter if anyone does or if no one does? I can’t imagine that in whatever comes next I will be concerned whether anyone is dreaming of me.
It’s nice how often my Dad does come to my mind. Whenever I see a Great Blue Heron I think of him and the times we spent looking for birds around the lakes and ponds of Virginia. I don’t go fishing without him coming to my mind. I can hear a bird sing, see a squirrel, hear a woodpecker drumming on an old, dead tree and memories of him come to me. For a brief moment, or maybe for hours, we are spending time together.
When I gaze upon mountains or visit a new land, I think of him and how he would have enjoyed seeing these things. He had the same wanderlust that lives within me.
Life seems cruel to have taken him in such a way and so young. A body being ravaged and dying, knowing that you will leave behind a wife, a daughter and two sons far too soon. It seems no man or woman should have to go through that, and yet it happens all the time. For what purpose and to what end? These are questions we can’t answer. People say it is God’s plan or fate or just meant to be, and maybe that is comforting to them or fills their need for an answer.
I don’t feel the need to try and explain it anymore. It is one of those things that just is. Maybe, someday all the answers will be revealed and everything will make sense.
It does make one realize that all we have is the here and now. This moment, this time. As is often said, tomorrow is never guaranteed, so why do we spend so much of our time and energy worrying about tomorrow’s instead of today’s.
Which brings me back to my Dad and today. I can imagine him sitting like I am now, pen in hand, writing and thinking of his memories. Memories of time with his Dad, his brother, his wife, his children, time in nature, fishing, camping, playing basketball and golf. It makes me feel peaceful and connected to him.
I realize that I can visit with him any time I like. All I need to do is pick up a pen and start writing and he will be there, walking beside me, standing next to me fishing, tilting his head back for a long, deep laugh. And that makes me smile.
