In Memoriam, Part 2

It has been 3 months and 4 days now since my Dad passed away. Much of the immediate pain has somewhat passed yet I still think of him everyday. There are episodes of intense sorrow as I remember old and relatively recent photographs of times when death was the farthest thing from mind. The picture of him above was taken during a winter day in 1989 in Harvey, LA. It was a rare treat for the family as a freak snowfall enveloped the entire New Orleans metropolitan area. At the time this picture was taken, I must have been out and about in a company truck delivering medical records or perhaps sitting in traffic within a stalled mass of homebound motorists. This particular picture happened to pierce my mind late yesterday afternoon after I said goodbye one final time to my ex-girlfriend Sabine. My heart was riven by this circumstance already and yet memories of my father came flooding in. The tears poured forth as a result and a shrill cry issued from my throat as I wondered where my dear departed father was amidst life's cruelties.

The remembrances also occur in dreams. For the past few years, ever since I moved to the Pacific Northwest, my conversations with my father were cell phone conversations inquiring and reminding me about my monthly financial contribution. It was a routine I grew tired of but an obligation I nevertheless had to comply with for the simple reason that I would feel guilty to deprive them of my help. I won't go into detail here but my parent's financial circumstance might have seen better days. It was in this setting that I dreamt of my father, I suppose, for the first time ever since he died. The conversation, however, was positive and had the tone of fatherly concern for my well-being. I distinctly remember him asking about a car. Was it about my truck or about his Toyota Camry that I enjoyed driving during my last visit home? I was struck by the kindness in his voice if I recall correctly. In the dream, I also suddenly realized that I was talking to my dead father on the phone. The question I posed to him was: "Dad, what's it like in heaven?" I might have heard a non-verbal acknowledgement of the question as I waited for his answer. The dream faded shortly after. I missed him tremendously as my eyes opened to meet the new day.

A little more recently, sometime last week, after the weekend that I starkly realized that Sabine and I were no longer a couple, I dreamt of my father again. This time the setting was inside the present family home in Marrero, LA. I dreamt of him as he used to look possibly before there was even any hint of cancer lurking in his body. The details regarding his "visit" this time are lost but it did seem like an ordinary day in the house as we discussed some immediate matter. In the midst of my conversation I suddenly realized once again, but not with as much clarity as the first dream, that I was talking to my dead father. I felt it strange to see him in the flesh yet felt utterly grateful as I surmised that maybe his death was a nightmare after all. In the midst of this realization I hugged him tightly as I hugged him the very last time I saw him alive over four months ago. The dream faded and I woke up to a dreary, wet, and cold Seattle morning. I wondered seconds later what the meaning of this dream might have been other than my subconscious wishing he were still alive. A strange thought occured that hints at the supernatural. Perhaps this was my Dad's way of telling me not to worry about my recent breakup with Sabine and that there will be brighter days ahead. That's all I could think of.

I miss you Dad.