Hurdled over in my office closet, I sobbed into his sweatshirt. No, sobbing is too gentle. Every emotion ripped through the cells of my body and released through screams and moans. My chest cracked open with each cry and poured everything trapped within those flesh walls.
"I just want to hug you," I said between raw, hoarse wails.
In his sweatshirt pocket are crinkled paper towels, a crumbled cookie, and the cloth he cleaned his glasses with.
I can't throw them away.
There are stains on the sweatshirt when he ate small bites of watermelon or eggs. He cursed and wiped his hands on the nearest thing if he spilled. I rubbed my thumbs over every stain.
Now, my tears soak the cotton fibers.
I will never wash it.
Once my body was emotionally exhausted, I hung his sweatshirt back up, went into the living room, and cuddled into Phil.
That night in my dreams, Dad arrived with his big love energy. He knew I needed him. When I encounter loved ones in my dreams, I call it the in-between; they know they are dead, as do I. I've seen him a few times now. Dad looks so good. Previously, he showed me his grey hair; seeing him with hair again was odd. But proudly, he took off his hat and showed me.
However, this interaction was different.
Vivid. Extended.
We talked.
He answered my questions.
I knew it was ending soon.
"I would love a hug," Dad said.
Immediately, I went over to him where he sat. I wrapped my arms around him. He did the same. I rested my head on his chest.
He felt tangible.
"We're okay. I'm okay. You have Phil and Logan." (more answers to my questions) Dad's voice was low.
I nodded. Words couldn't breach my lips because my cries would unleash.
"I sure do miss being there with you." His voice cracked.
And as the dream dissipated, I could still feel him. His voice echoed in the air as if it imprinted on the space around me.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and the corners of my mouth lifted. I wanted to wake Phil, but it was 4:30. I grabbed my phone and typed out everything. I never wanted to forget that experience.
Dad knew I needed that hug.
No one can take this away from me.
The calm that flows through my veins is unique.
Different.
Dad and I spoke about what life would be like without him, much of which I didn't want to think about. I thought I was already in that place mentally, but I'm not. I thought I understood what the world would feel like in his absence.
No.
Everything is alien.
It's lonely.
I'm not lonely in the sense I don't have people who love me, but grief evolves differently for everyone. Yes, I'm the new Dead Dad's Club member, but our experiences are our own. We can sympathize with one another, but it's a lonely place—a place I never want people to encounter, even though I know it’s a part of life.
The realization that, to the day, we only had 7 months with him. I didn't believe when we walked into their condo on December 7, after not seeing him and my Mom for 2.5 years, that 7 months later, Dad would no longer be here.
That sucks.
That's brutal.
I am aware sometimes people don't have that time, but this is my life, my Dad, my family. I am not other people. And other people are not me.
Yes, we made memories, but I can't deny that many are stained with cancer. It's something a person can't bypass. Especially when you sit in the Chemotherapy pods with them, or the Radiation waiting room, or Oncology appointments, Radiology, Palliative, Hospice, it's fucking hard.
It's gutting.
But as Dad said, it wasn't all bad.
He's right, it wasn't.
Even in the great beyond, he's right.
Show off.
To know that when I am praying, meditating, or having a complete level 9000 meltdown in my closet, getting snot all over his sweatshirt, Dad is listening.
My faith is bruised and battered, but that aspect is not—my trust in Dad.
My trust in his love.
In that dream, I did joke with him about his ghostly presence, and you know I’ll take a ghost hug anytime.
March 2020 - Dad and Mom were moving back to South Dakota from Florida. That year with them was incredible. He said to me that afternoon, “It will be okay. I’ll see you soon. I love you, honey.”