It has been five years--and, thank goodness, I am beginning to be in a better place. A place where I can remember my dad without sobbing and a place where I can reference the man he was in conversations without choking my throat.
It is still, very, very, hard.
We went to Disneyland last week and I thought about him as I was walking in the entrance. I thought about how he would have wanted to be there with us and how he was the one who took me as a child. I wanted to ask him questions about how I acted and which rides we rode together, and felt my loss knowing that I never can find those answers.
Life isn't fair.
I miss him.
I have a need to get to a forest and explore with my children as we walk together. I have a need to celebrate him and commemorate him through nature and being at peace with nature and the continuation of life.
Last week I had a dream and saw him. His image was so brief but he was smiling at me, eyes crinkled up and a huge grin on his face while his hands stretched out beckoning me to him. I ran to him and hugged him so hard I almost knocked us over. I pressed into his hug and felt my arms around his back and never wanted to let go.
I love it when I dream about him. I like to believe that it is him visiting me from the world beyond. It is him saying that he is okay and that he is still with me. I find comfort in these dreams.
