Dreamt about a friend last night. Like so many friends, I haven’t seen him in a while. Its been well over ten years since I shared the same physical space with him. And similar to so many of the people I care for, but life has squeezed us apart, I followed his journey as best I could as I traveled my own road.
My dreams took me back to a place that doesn’t exist any longer. A sacred space that lives in the heart of my childhood. A spot whose banks I stood on sunny summer days with a closed reel rod and hoped to pull in the Bluegill only to throw them right back in. Where my brothers, neighbors, friends, and I splashed away the heat of August. I never saw my friend in this sanctum until last night.
He stood on the far bank, fishing in my favorite spot. He was doing something I knew he loved, something we shared. I knew this was the only way I would get to see him. He passed away. Three years already. In the dream, I knew this. I rushed to tell him I missed him and was glad that I experienced some time knowing him. The dream ended with a hug, and I woke crying.
Life is hard. Life is long, but never long enough. Missing the people who touch your heart never ceases, and time is not the healer we are told. I’m glad for dreams, I am glad for friends, I am glad for family.
Rest Easily, my friend.