I'm writing this for myself.
So I don't forget this.
Tuesday morning I woke up to the sound of my alarm.
I stumbled across my bedroom to shut off the noise.
For a split moment, I had an excitement in my chest.
My dad was coming to visit.
Then I realized.
It was just a dream.
A dream that had taken me to Illinois to a friends wedding. A place where I saw Riley in the crowd and he told me Grandpa Dale brought him.
I asked where he was (in the dream it wasn't weird that my dad brought Riley to this place) and that I wanted to see him.
Because I missed him.
As I searched the crowd, the familiar ache was there.
The lonely ache that has taken up constant residence.
A thought passed through my mind.
I only missed him because I had moved.
He lived in Ohio, I lived in Connecticut.
No wonder I missed him.
And all he had to do was come visit and I wouldn't miss him anymore.
I could show him where I live.
I could show him where I work.
And maybe that would make him proud.
I couldn't wait to find him and tell him the news.
All he had to do was visit.
My eyes scanned the crowd for his familiar face.
I couldn't wait to find him.
I knew he would hug me.
And I am so lonesome for that hug.
Then the noise came.
And I woke up.
I jumped out of bed.
Excited that I could call him.
And invite him.
Then a millisecond went by.
And I remembered.
I don't miss him because I moved.
I miss him. Because he's not hear anymore.
It smacked me in the face like a cement wall.
A reality I didn't want to face.
I wanted to run back to bed.
Crawl under the sheets.
And race back to that dream.
I wanted to see him.
Wanted to talk to him.
Wanted one more hug from him.
But I couldn't.
I had an early meeting.
I knew I wasn't in the state of mind to get there in person.
Thankful for technology that I could call in.
Be present, without being present.
Last night I dreamt again.
I had a dream he came to visit.
I showed him my house.
I showed him where I work.
And he said he was proud.
But I didn't get a hug.
That bear hug I so desperately need, but know is impossible to get.
I don't know where these dreams came from.
The only thing I can tie them to is Riley's birthday.
The day he was born was hard, yet healing. And each year it brings back a flood of memories.
It was hard because he was my dad's first grandchild. A grandchild I know he would have adored.
Healing because that moment Riley was laid on my chest, I knew he would be like my dad and me...and would fill part of my heart that had been ripped apart.
Maybe God let me have a visit from my dad.
I don't know why or what has set it off.
While it is hard to wake up in the morning...
it is impossible to describe amazing to have these visits at night with my dad.