Monday, November 5, 2012
I See Him Everywhere I Go
I dream about him every single night, without fail. Last night he was helping me break my brother out of jail. The funniest parts of that being that 1. my brother never has been nor would ever be in jail, and 2. my dad suggested we use a gurney as our primary jail-breaking tool, and it worked, and 3. if any of his children ever did something to land ourselves in jail, he'd never break us out.
I like that my dad is funny in my dreams because he was funny in my life, too. I like that every once in a while when I'm having a rough day something silly will happen like when I'm playing Words With Friends with my brother, my tiles will spell BOB (my dad's name) or, I'll run into a nice man on the street with a big belly that reminds me of my dad and all of a sudden I get this feeling that running into such a man wasn't a coincidence.
My dad is here, close by, and I know that. And I'm grateful for that. But nothing has been able to replace his daily phone calls, silly texts, random messages, or little surprises he was constantly sending me just to remind me that he's still my dad, and I'm still his little girl. But now as I type this out, I'm realizing that he does indeed still send me little messages and silly surprises, they're just different. And they still mean the world.
A few of the posts I've written about my dad. Here. Here. Here. Here.
*Sorry for all the heavy posts lately. I'm hoping to be back to my chipper, less heavy self really soon.