Missing Pieces and Midnight Visits

My brother and mom are in the air right now, flying back from a trip out west. I wish I could have gone with them, but I'm here, with "responsibilities" (a daughter). I hope my mom found the trip helpful and healing, as its the first time she's travelled out there since my dad died in November 2005. I lost my dad nine months ago, and I'm so afraid of losing my mom now. I guess its normal to be that way after you suddenly, shockingly lose one parent in the prime of their life (late prime, but still prime nonetheless).

I wonder what my mom's going to do with her life now, almost at retirement, no kids at home and no husband... what will she spend her time doing? What will she find rewarding to fill that hole that my dad left in her life, in all of our lives? How will all of our lives change after his passing?

Me, well I'm still shaking. Literally. I'm like a child taking her first steps, or someone teetering on a balance beam for the first time. I feel so lost, and wobbly. My dad had such a huge presence, a loud booming voice, he was anything but subtle and quiet. I feel like the edges of the hole he left in our lives is softening just a bit, the pain is not all consuming and raw all the time, but the giant hole is still there, and the pain is still very much just under the surface.

I had a dream about my dad the other night. My mom and brother were staying in my house, and they had just had a "run in" with my dad. See, my dad was a good guy at heart, but he had a lot of hangups - issues with addictions, anxiety, depression that were never treated well. A lot of it was the product of his times - there wasn't much for depressed men to do in the 1970's except self-medicate with alcohol, so thats what he did. He lost his parents young, and I'm sure that left a giant hole in his heart. I now know what it feels like to be a young person grieving a parent.

My dad had a difficult relationship with his father and his siblings that he never really seemed to resolve. He didnt have any higher education, in fact, I think he was a high school dropout, and he just had to get along by the seat of his pants. Which was difficult for him, but he did quite well actually. He was truly the smartest person I know - intelligence anyhow, sometimes he was not so smart when it came to relating to others, and to himself.

I really believe my dad and I had some kind of psychic connection. Something deep and dark and ancient and Celtic. I always knew when something was wrong with him, even before someone told me. The night he died I was up all night, feeling really cold, and I even went to sit in Abby's room and just sit there. I was sitting up at 3 am, shivering, feeling all kinds of weird rushes in my body and soul. I feel like he was just an extension of my soul, the other side of a coin. I stubbed my toe and his foot hurt, he had a headache and I took an aspirin, that kind of thing. We had the same silly rashes and allergies, the same sort of itchy feet and funny skin. We also are the only ones in the family to share dark dark hair and dark dark eyes. Even my own daughter is a caramel-blonde blue-eyed girl. When my dad was self-destructing six years ago, I instinctively knew something was wrong just from the fact that he didnt call me back one night. He always called me back. The next day I didnt hear from him and I hopped in my car and drove an hour to see if he was okay, only to have to take him to the hospital. He wasn't all right, and I knew it.

Anyhow in my dream, my dad was going through one of his self destructive episodes, where he was ranting and raving and freaking out and taking all kinds of substances. My mom and brother were really freaked, saying they didnt want him back alive bad enough for him to put them through that stuff again.

I panicked, and I ran out of my house and went to my parents place (in my dream of course) and picked him up in my car, and we drove to this forested, happy looking place. There were small, moving organisms running around us, in a playground type setting. I'm pretty sure it symbolized playing with Abby at a playground, but all the kids were these funny kinds of cartoon blocks, but they were playing and running just like kids. My dad was getting a kick out of all the action. He watched Abby slide down a slide and he was so impressed.

I've had similar dreams before when people I know have died. They generally follow a pattern - first the person is in the dream, they're back and we're talking together. Then they start to "cut out" - they're here and then they disappear, then they're back and gone again. The next series of dreams they are further away from me, walking far away, on the horizon, across a field, just out of contact. Then the dreams shift to those of us left behind, we're sitting and talking about the deceased person, but the person's no longer there.

My first dreams about my dad when he first passed away was him sitting with us, looking really sheepish and apologizing all over the place for dying and putting us through such pain. He's looking down at the table and feeling really bad. The next series of dreams, he's walking among us, but I'm saying to him "you know you're dead, right" and he says "Oh, yeah thats right" and then he disappears. Or we're spending time in a usual, family way (hanging out, watching TV, driving somewhere) and he's there, then he's not and he "cuts in and out" like an intermittent tv signal. I've not had any dreams at all lately though, this is the first one I've had in a long time. And this is the first one where I really feel like I'm communicating with him still.

I know that some people will say that this is just my subconscious, working out the loss. Maybe it is. But I'm grateful for the dreams that I have, because I really believe that its him, talking to me from the next life, travelling to see me on our spiritual, psychic connection. When I wake up from a dream like this, I really feel good and I really feel like I've actually seen him and spent time with him.

I hope he and I we can spend some time together some night soon. Come over sometime Doots, I miss you. I've got so much to tell you and so much to ask you.