My First Dream – In Memory of My Dad

I shared earlier that after my dad passed, I was hoping to dream about him because I missed him so much. My dad’s passing was very tough emotionally. I experienced different grieving phases – a roller coaster of ups and downs. It felt unbearable when I was going through the first days, weeks, and months.

Even many months after his passing I would still get very sad when I thought about him or saw him in pictures, especially the one in my living room taken during the 50th wedding anniversary of my parents. This particular picture is very dear to me, but also brought the most melancholy. It made me sad – still does – to remember that my dad only exists through memories and pictures.

Slowly things got better. Time helps. It is true. Sadness never abandoned me, but I was able to control my emotions and tears while looking at him and remembering his love through the pictures.

“While you are grieving, when you are feeling the deep pain of losing a loved one, you don’t believe that time will actually help. But time helps… It is true.” –IS

I had an obsessive desire to dream about him. I wanted to see him again. I knew I could only do that in my dreams. The desire grew stronger and stronger with time. I would think about this before going to bed. I would talk myself to sleep while thinking about my dad. Frustration grew stronger as my dream never materialized. Maybe I had dreams but those were elusive as my consciousness awoke every morning. My dad was on my thoughts all the time and I couldn’t understand how could I not dream about him? Regardless of how much my dad overwhelmed my thoughts, he was not part of my dreams. The awareness of a dream never happened. The story never changed until after eight months to the exact day of his passing.

Suddenly my excitement was overcome by tears, as my husband’s alarm clock went off. My husband got out of bed and went to the bathroom to take a shower – his normal morning routine. I stayed in bed that morning, as I was trying to get a bit more sleep and let myself drift back to the dream. Time was suddenly frozen – seconds, minutes, became eternal. My husband came back to the room to wake me up. As my consciousness awoke, I realized that I had seen him. It happened. I desperately tried to go back to sleep again, the dream was gone. I felt such happiness and sadness at the same time. I was happy to see my dad, but sad again as I realized that he was gone from my life. Tears rushed in. As I woke up, I rushed to catch the glimpses of the dream, desperately trying to put the pieces together – collecting and deciphering the tangled but delicate threads of thoughts that were populating my awakening consciousness. It worked. I was able to re-build my wonderful and only dream.

The location of the dream was hard to pinpoint. It started as a house. Maybe my parents’ house? The first person that appeared in the house was the lady who took care of my mom after my dad passed. She was dusting some shelves and I remembered being very hot – typical heat in Puerto Rico. The caretaker was wearing a light overcoat opened in the front, all buttons undone. I commented to her that there was no one else in the house so she should feel free to take the overcoat off, as it was so hot. Then the house slowly morphed into a wrought iron arbor framing a green field in front of a forest. I floated to the arbor. The caretaker was still in the house and then my sister came in the picture. I was concerned – distressed – as I was asking them about the whereabouts of my dad.

“We have been in the house for several days and I have not seen my dad,” I almost cried in desperation.

But no one else seemed to share my concern. I couldn’t understand why they were not worried about my dad, as he was missing.

Then my dad suddenly appeared in the field and walked toward the arbor. My grandpa passed by in the corner of my eye. My dad was young, maybe in his mid 30’s. His hair was black and he was as handsome as ever, with his usual perfectly trimmed mustache that he carried all his life. I recognized his clothes – maybe from memories of old pictures that I have seen growing up. His clothes matched the era – definitely the 60’s – striped loose brown pants with a loose short-sleeved buttoned shirt. Everything moved slowly, like in a dream. There was a mesmerizing calmness that permeated the air. As the picture of my dad became clearer, he stopped in the middle of the field and started throwing a baseball toward the forest. There was no one catching or returning the ball, but somehow he kept repeating his pitches – first some high balls and then some low ones. After several throws he then approached the arbor and I looked into his eyes. No words were exchanged. I was looking at him but it was like there was nobody there. His dark eyes uttered peacefulness. He sat down on one of the benches inside the arbor. Then a little brown-haired girl emerged on the bench across from my dad. She was wearing a white cotton dress with eyelets and ruffle details. As she leaned on the arbor bench she playfully looked at my dad. She shared my dad’s eyes. They were looking at each other communicating through their eyes.

I was the little girl and I found my dad. The peace spoke of eternity. I then slowly walked away, knowing that I finally found him and he was alright. He was not lost. He was there but also with me. His eyes told me so and I saw him with my own eyes. The memory ended.

I was so happy the day I dreamed about my dad. I smiled for days. I tried to repeat the dream but it was not meant to be. There was no need. I felt my dad’s presence. I saw that he was in a beautiful place. I know I will see him again…someday. And every time I feel sad, I can go back to the serenity of my dream.

My dad passed three years ago. As I remember him, it brings comfort to remember my dream.

“Dreams carry us through difficult times – never give up on your dreams.” — IS

Inspired by a Dream – The Track

(This is an essay that I wrote for my writing class. The short essay is inspired by a dream. Not a dream I had but one that I imagined. I was thinking about my dad when I wrote the essay. I wanted desperately to dream about my dad after he passed. I desperately wanted to see him again, even if only through a dream. The dreams didn’t come for many months after his passing. But maybe I dreamed about him, but don’t remember? I wanted this dream to be true, so I imagined it. Today, as I think about my dad, I decided to share this essay about my dad that brings comfort to my soul.)

She was running toward the track to meet him. She knew he was waiting for her and her heart started pounding faster and faster as she approached the track.

She saw a group of men walking in the track and one of them was wearing the very familiar outfit that she immediately recognized.

She ran faster and faster but the track kept moving away from her. Suddenly the track disappeared and everything turned white. She felt saddened as she wanted to run with him as they did every day.

She waited for what seemed an eternity and then decided to run back home. She started running so fast that it felt like flying. Soon she was among the clouds. She felt weightless and was flying as fast as the birds above her.

“I’m flying. I’m really flying,” she said, and she felt a joy that filled her heart.

As she was flying she realized that her dad was carrying her. They looked at each other as they were flying and, suddenly, all the colors came back. The clouds gave way to multi-colored houses sprinkled throughout the green rolling hills.

She knew she had found her way back home!

I Miss You, Papi – The Unimaginable

I found the title of this post in my iPad. Just the title, no additional words. I think I meant to write something about my dad – Papi – some time ago (maybe before my trip to Puerto Rico), but maybe I got too emotional and never got to it. Papi is an endearing name that we use to call ‘dad’ in the Spanish language. I didn’t want to trash the title, so I decided to write today. I miss Papi a lot, all the time. Losing my dad feels unimaginable.

I always get emotional when I think about my dad. I miss him. I didn’t talk with him every day. Mostly weekly – that’s about the frequency that I have resorted to by the time he passed. I used to call my parents in Puerto Rico about twice a week – maybe more frequently if there was something I wanted to share. But as my life in Michigan developed – becoming a married woman with a career and a lot of other things going on – the frequency changed.

I was just listening to one of the songs from Hamilton, the musical, and I ended up thinking about my dad. The song – ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’ – always makes me emotional. The song is about losing someone – the unimaginable. I always end up thinking about my dad and end up crying. I thought that trying to put some of my thoughts in writing might help calm me down, so here I am writing.

How I miss my dad? I miss that he doesn’t exist anymore in the physical world. I miss that I can’t pick up the phone and call him. I will never be able to hear him again, or his very unique laugh. I will never be able to touch him or look into his eyes. I always thought I had his eyes…

I was a daddy’s girl. I was the first born and was always at his side while growing up. I used to watch him working on the car – he loved cars and I do too. Maybe he missed having a boy at his side to teach all the car stuff, but he never said that. I observed him every day as he was taking care of the car – he dusted the car every day – and the love for cars is something I learned from him.

I was very attached to my dad. I never liked losing sight of him. I would get mad. My parents always tell me the story of when my dad was leaving for a baseball game – the baseball field was walking distance from our house – and how I started crying to such a degree that he took me with him to the game. I also remembered how everyone said that I walked fast. It was not that I was walking fast, necessarily, but that I learned the fast stride from walking next to my dad. He was a fast walker. Every time I realize that I’m walking fast, I remember him.

My dad was a joker. Always finding a way to make a joke about life situations. We didn’t always laugh, but he never gave up to try to make us laugh. I remember about how he used to compare people, especially when he was watching television. He would joke that someone looked like somebody else or something else. Sometimes his comparisons were horrible and we will tell him so. But it didn’t matter, because he would make us laugh anyway. I also joke sometimes and I now realize that maybe I inherited that gene from my dad.

There are so many things that we inherit from our parents. I know I can probably come up with a long list. But for now, I just wanted to think about a few, and mostly remember my dad. I wish he would still exist and that I could hear his voice. But that is not possible. I will just have to remember the memories and his laughter. I will just have to keep thinking that his soul still exists and that he is still around me keeping watch over me – just like I was always around him, keeping watch over him when I was a little girl.

I love you, Papi!

Sadness after Happiness

I had such a happy day yesterday celebrating my 56th birthday. I felt so relaxed, even though going to work usually gives me stress. However, I was able to re-energize my spirits through relaxation and the many joys experienced during my birthday. I got up early and felt that I could conquer the world. Unfortunately, sadness was soon to come.

Not long after I arrived at work I received news that a person in my staff passed during the weekend. It was a sudden death. Shocking. I have spoken with her a few days ago and she seemed happy with her usual cheery attitude. Then today, she is gone. It’s not easy to write about this. I have spent almost all day crying, thinking about her, thinking about how fragile life is.

We make plans, we worry about things, we think we are in control and then we realize when someone dies that control is an illusion and that not much that happens around you at work is important compared to the loss of a life. Death reminds us that we should live every minute as it was our last; that what’s important in life are the relationships that we have with our loved ones; that nothing else matters much.

I have been thinking a lot today about one of Queen’s songs that I heard at the movie that we watched a couple of days ago (Bohemian Rhapsody movie). The title of the song is ‘Who Wants to Live Forever.’ No one lives forever, but I want to say that I want to live forever. I don’t want to die. I have so many things that I want to do.

The loss that I experienced today reinforces my project. I’m glad I started this blog. I’m glad that I’m not waiting for any special signs (I have received many already). I want to follow my dream now. I want to live everyday feeling that I contributed to my life’s purpose. Whatever time I have in this world I want to use to do what I enjoy — and that is writing. Like Hamilton, I don’t want to throw away my shot!