Saturday, August 27, 2011

And I knew for sure I was loved

I woke up this morning from a haunting dream.  I feel kind of down.  When I have these sorts of dreams (and I have them from time to time), I have a hard time shaking this melancholy feeling.  

I was at a funeral, for my father.  The brother, the sister, and I were each going to say something to honor our dad.  The sister started by reading a poem; it was beautiful.  The service continued and later, oddly enough, the brother performed a rap (seriously).  This would not happen in real life by the way (I don't think), but somehow in my dream it was very touching.   

Finally, towards the end, it was my turn.  I had written and memorized a prayer for him.  I went to the lectern, and I froze.  My mind was blank.  I was staring at a crowd of people, and I couldn't grasp the first word.  I pulled out my phone (odd).  Apparently I had a copy of my prayer saved there that I intended to read from.  The print was very small, too small to read.  I tried to zoom in; my phone wasn't working.  I mouthed to the sister, "do you have a copy?"  She shrugged and replied, "sorry!"   

Then I was staring at all these people for what felt like at least two minutes.  People began to shake their heads in disgust and whisper.  I hung my head.  I felt ashamed.  I felt like I let my dad down.  Then I made a feeble attempt at winging it.  I said something about how our dad taught us the value of hard work, the importance of a strong work ethic.  Then the most bizarre thing happened (more bizarre than the brother's rap even).  The pianist and choir started the final hymn while I was still speaking.  Seriously. I was giving an acceptance speech at the Grammy's or something, and my time was up. The minister even motioned for me to wrap it up.  I woke up abruptly then.

My father is dead.  It's been awhile now since he passed away.  It breaks my heart still (it always will).  My feelings regarding his death are complicated (as feelings usually are and feelings regarding death especially are).  While the loss of a loved one is a terribly hard thing to endure, I have learned that there are things that are far worse than death.  I grieved for my dad well before he died, for several years before he passed.  He was sick for some time.  I grieved for all that his sickness took from him.  I grieved for what it stole from our family. 

He was not the first one (and obviously he won't be the last).  I have lost others, several.  It started about ten years ago.  When you lose fundamental people from your world, it alters you as a person.  My heart hurts every day.

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