Tuesday, January 8, 2013

i love him still

Over the summer I dreamed a dream, the kind on the edge of sleeping.

I was in some sort of jungle-y place with Blake and Cade. Thailand, maybe? We were walking on a trail and making our way back to what was our hut. It was very rustic and had a thick wooden door.

We went inside the hut and the boys scampered up to the table and started coloring with some crayons and paper. I heard a knock on the door and went to answer it.

I remember pulling the door with my left hand and swinging it open towards me.

There in the doorway stood my Dad.

"Hey Raybee-baby, it's been awhile", he said to me with a smile spread across his face.

And then I woke-up.

Aaron had walked in the room and I told him to leave so I could fall back asleep. I wanted to catch the dream to see if my Dad had anything else to say to me. This was the first time that a dream with him in it had seemed real, like it was actually him standing in front of me, like I could have reached out and given him a hug and I would have once again been able to feel his arms around me. To give him one more kiss on his cheek and tell him I love him still.

It's been three years since he passed away.

My love and respect for him has only grown more strong and deep.

He was the father of seven children. Five of who are daughters. I'm finding that having one daughter is an emotional roller coaster enough, and she's only 7 1/2. I think maybe we should start referring him to as St. Alan for having successfully raised five girls.

As time passes, I've found the hardest thing is to be in middle of doing something, or being somewhere, or having a question I knew he'd have the answer to, and not having him there. I especially feel sorry for my children not having him around. I was able to have 28 years with him, I just wish they would have had more time. But I do know that they'll be able to get to know him through the stories and pictures that we share with them.

I found a word that comes the closest to what it feels like: Saudade.

It's a Portuguese word that has no immediate English translation. It's described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone.  It's the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness like someone or something should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels their presence.

I have saudade for my Dad.

love you, dad.



maggie said...

The way you have shared your dad's stories and yourself and the person you are is evidence that his influence continues to impact all of us in a very positive way. We miss him, too.

Aimee said...

Your dad touched more peoples lives than you will ever know and he was an amazing example of who I wanted to be. Your thoughts on this is wonderful. Thanks for sharing.

Maytribe said...

I wish I could express myself as you do....I love you. He is my best friend; I miss him.