Thursday, April 24, 2014
Where are you now?
The other night, I dreamt of you. It often happens in times of great personal transition.
I dreamed that the Great Whatever let me in on the Secret of what lay beyond the dark doorway. Another life to have a throw at the target. Another step toward nirvana.
And everyone around me, all those who have been with me on this journey --family, friends, soul-mate --would be reunited, each with our different roles in the new cycle. To rediscover one another; to continue to teach and learn from each other; to take another step on our collective path.
But you would not be with us the next time around. That is what the Great Whatever told me in my dream. That you would not advance. That you would linger.
And I was filled with sorrow. And I knew that I would rather not advance unless we could all be together. Because, despite all the pain of it, I could not leave you behind.
Before you left, you wrote letters to each of us. Delivered posthumously.
And you wrote to me: "I'm sorry for the times I've wronged you. But I know those times are already forgotten."
Not forgotten, perhaps, but forgiven. And there was never anything that would make me want to leave you behind.
So, Dad, tell me: Where are you now? Can we go on? Or, when my time comes, shall I wait for you?