Thank You, Dad, for Hope

He was so young in my dream, my dad was. The 20-something face I remember only from pictures. Handsome, lots of dark hair, athletic. And smiling. Of course. I think he was wearing a white shirt.

“Hi, Cheryl.” I heard that familiar joyful beat in his voice.

“Hi, Daddy. We miss you a lot down here.”

“I know. And I understand,” he replied solemnly.

“Well, do you want to come back, Daddy?”

“Cheryl, you have no idea how wonderful it is here. No, I don’t want to come back.”

I didn’t feel abandoned by his words. Rather, his words filled me with hope.

And the dream ended.

Thank you, Daddy.

July 26, 2013 

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