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Grief creeps up

I just woke sobbing from a dream about my dad. Earlier today, or I suppose yesterday, i drove past our neighborhood pizza place and it popped into my mind how much Dad would have enjoyed just sitting at an outside table with a slice and a pitcher of beer, shooting the shit unil we were laughed out. But we'll never do that, because he died almost four years ago.

In my dream, he had a terminal illness of some kind - not the diabetes that he managed well except for just that once. He never spoke but he had something like an instant messenger on his computer, and sent me brief messages, first from another room and then as I stood reading over his shoulder, hugging him. Benedict Cumberbatch was my dream buddy, and he began crying too.


Dad and I weren't as close as we could have been, but literal distance was part of that too. His loss - too young, too young - I am sure will continue to hit me afresh for the rest of my life, every time I fix the leaky sink faucet or come up with a truly bad pun or check extra carefully after the light turns green. Usually I can be reminded and easily say "That is such a joke my dad would have told" without faltering. Even though I'm skeptical down to the bone part of me wonders, because it is 4:00 AM, if the dream was Dad's way of speaking to me. "This is such a poor way to tell you how I really feel" he typed into his dream-computer. "I love you so much and I always will."

Thanks for listening, guys. I know there is lots of other crazy stuff going on this night but I needed to share this dream so I never forget it.

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