I’m scooping up humble pie and shoveling it in by the spoonfuls. Pride has gotten the best of me, weighting each bite.
Yesterday the thought fluttered by: I’m glad this GRIEF thing is over. It’s nice to have that behind me. I’d doing fabul—.
Bam- I wake from a morning dream, grasping at the scene playing behind sleeping eyelids.
A dream in which I’m talking with my dad. He sits an arms distance from me; eyes dancing behind glasses, his gray hair life-like and real. Bekah Jane, he laughs. He hugs me. A hug only a dad can give, complete with a pat-on-the-back and chuckle. You’re doing good, he says. You’re doing good.
About what, I’m not sure, for that is where sleep breaks and eyes open.
Grief is not over. It’s a sleeping bear, tamed and confident, then roaring unexpectedly at the first sign of hunger. Down goes my pride. It burns as I swallow, scalding and heavy. Many days I can coax my missing him to submission, imagine the reunion in heaven, the days of eternity that melt this lifetime to a thimble.
It’s after a dream like this, his presence so real, that makes the day after harder.
What I wouldn’t give to have a dad hug right now.
To hear his laugh one more time and squeeze him in a bear hug, long, with a pat-pat-pat. One more beach-drive-family-bbq-cheeseburger-devouring-watermelon-wedge-shoveling-ice-cream-dripping-off-our-chins evening. If I could will one more into existence it would have happened long ago.
Is it worth it- the harder days in exchange for a life-like dream? A heart-full yes! It’s worth reality’s sting, a moment created between here and heaven, where dreams transpire, for one more conversation with dad. One more hug. Yes, the sadness after is worth the interaction with dad, even if it be a dream. I will continue to pray for them, that the Lord will create new memories, gifts made only while sleeping.
To Lil’ Mom I text this: What I wouldn’t give for a Dad hug right now. Minutes later her reply, You and me both. You and me both.
Darn bear. I thought it was sleeping.
We are not done here on this grief journey. We are never done.
Papa Bears made with love by my dear mom-in-law, Denise. Hand-sewn, each bear is created from my dad’s hawaiian shirts.
Stay tuned for an inspiring post on these precious keepsakes.