On that dark, torturous day when your heart stopped beating, I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t feel. How could I myself bear to live, with this black chasm of grief where my soul used to be? You had always been my solid rock, my fortitude, and more times than it should have been, my safe harbour. And without a doubt, you were my biggest fan. You were the one who taught me that it was not only okay to be different, but it was desirable. You understood me when others couldn’t. How would I survive now? How could any of us?
Somehow, though, as each day was born, we went on. I thought I was learning to live without you. The days became weeks, then months, that became swallowed up by year after passing year. Life’s problems and challenges had to be dealt with. Its promise and joys waited to be fulfilled. Often I would ask, what would you do, Dad? How would you handle this? How can I face this, or celebrate that, so you would be proud of me?
And now, even after all this time, in the midst of sleep, deep inside a dream, I feel the grace of your presence, so familiar; and in the middle of an adventure when the adrenaline is racing through my being, I see your eyes mirroring my exhilaration. I even hear you joke and laugh when I take myself too seriously. Again and again you resurface, and we are face to face, sharing the moment. I feel the longed for warmth of your smile.
Love truly is stronger than Death. How do I know this? Because, Dad, you have been at the core of everything that ever mattered to me. You never really left me after all.