Sean started singing that song from Hamilton the musical when I told them about a dream I had earlier this week. I woke up to go to the bathroom in the early morning (about 3:00 a.m.) on Monday, as I often do, and immediately remembered that my dad, who seemed to be alive and well, had made a guest appearance!

This is only the second time I’ve gotten to dream about Dad since he died unexpectedly on July 1st, the other being in mid-February (over seven months later). It was a very happy, fun and comforting dream! As I did on February 12th, after I went to the bathroom, I made a point to type all that I could remember into the notes app on my phone, while it was fresh in my mind.

Mom and I were in a waiting room at what I think was a doctors office. She has an appointment on Friday with a new doctor that I am taking her too, so that may’ve been in my subconscious. We had discussed some of the logistics when she was over for a visit and dinner with our family on Sunday evening.

I got the sense, in my dream, that Mom and I had already been in the waiting room for awhile, when Dad entered. Mom and I weren’t sitting together at the time, I am not sure why. It felt more like were across the room from each other, as if she was getting checked in at a reception desk or something like that.

I think Dad walked in, though I’m not really sure how he got there. I don’t recall him pushing a rollator or being in wheelchair, both of which he used regularly towards the end of his life to get around. I remember Dad’s face being very round, less oval, almost more so than it was in his life. I am pretty sure he was dressed in one of his go-to outfits, which included jeans and two layered shirts (one plaid one over a solid color one), just like in the photo above. I think Dad had his glasses on, though I am not positive.

Dad didn’t seem to know that there was anything off about his presence and yet, I also got the sense that he was somewhat aware that it had been awhile since we’d seen him and vice versa. Dad appeared to be content, even jovial, as he often was before he died, especially in waiting rooms at doctors’ offices. Dad used to love to talk with strangers in waiting rooms and medical staff at health care appointments. If someone would ask how he was, Dad usually replied by saying that he was, “semi-exquisite!” He would also tell people that his name was “Kevin, which rhymes with Heaven!” Dad didn’t do either this time.

Mom and I made eye contact early on and subtly acknowledged that we would go with this, not indicating to Dad that we knew he died and how surprised we were to see and get to interact with him. In some ways Dad behaved as if no time had passed since we’d last been together. However, somehow he also conveyed that there were things that he didn’t know, that he wanted us to fill him in on.

At first Dad was pretty low key about seeing us and we were so excited to see him! We tried to not to act too strangely, as we didn’t want to scare or startle him, I think. He was smiling so big and really looked like himself. Also, the best part of this dream is that he actually was able to talk and communicate some, more than in the first dream that I had (when he didn’t speak at all)!

We asked Dad how he was and he seemed to indicate that he felt good. It was kind of “small talk.” There were other people in the waiting room and I think Mom and I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or indicate there was anything off about Dad being there. We were definitely aware that he had died and this was strange. At the same time, we wanted the experience to last and to relish in getting to be with Dad.

The biggest thing, beyond Dad being able to talk in my dream, was that he essentially asked,

“What did I miss/What can you tell me?”

The first thing that came to mind, that we shared with him was about Sean going to his grad school alma mater, Marquette University, for college! Dad was so happy to hear that! He got the biggest smile on his face (almost like a little kid) and teared up, as he used too when things really moved him. Dad asked why Sean was interested in Marquette in the first place, seeming genuinely curious (not putting together what was an obvious reason/factor to us). We told him that it was because he had gone there and that also seemed to make him really happy!

At that moment, I recall standing (or maybe more so crouching down) really close to/directly in front of Dad. Prior to that, I was seated a few seats away. I might’ve even been holding on to the arms of the chair he was sitting in (so it could have been a wheelchair), though I don’t recall that from earlier in the dream. We were looking directly at each other, I was at his eye level, and I could see how happy he was to learn that his first grandchild, young adult Sean, was going to the university where he got his masters degree in Journalism!

I woke up soon after that interaction. It was a very happy dream! Of course there is so much more I’d have loved to tell him (about Mom, Gail, myself and our new home in Evanston), as well as to ask (if given the chance). However, I’ll take what I got! From what I recall, Mom didn’t interact as directly with Dad and I am still glad that she was part of the dream. I was struck, when I woke up, by what a joyful dream it was. It was not at all scary and I am grateful for that.

Today is the first anniversary of the last time I was with Dad in person, before he died two days later, and it has been a difficult milestone for me to navigate. I never know what to expect, when it comes to how I might feel at moments like these, which makes grieving all the more of a roller coaster ride.

For some reason I didn’t think my first Father’s Day since Dad died would be particularly hard for me, as we typically didn’t celebrate on the actual day. This was Dad’s choice, to avoid large crowds, with our longtime tradition of going to Arlington Race Track and Hackney’s restaurant for a meal. However, I ended up feeling very sad and emotional that day earlier this month.

When I reflect on this time last year, it feels like watching a horror movie, where you want to scream at the people on the screen that there is someone behind them or in the next room ready to pounce. I look at pictures and social media memories, as well as search my brain for anything and everything I am able to recall, and it is heart-wrenching to know what we didn’t back then.

Though there are many wonderful and happy memories from the first half of 2021, before Dad died, there are also some that are difficult to revisit. In retrospect, they can feel like missed opportunities. When those bubble up, I remind myself that I was doing my situational best, with the information I had at the time, and didn’t know that Dad was so close to his death.

There are lots of bizarre activities that a grieving brain partakes in and I understand that everyone doesn’t process death in the same ways. I find reviewing my memories of my final interactions, and lack thereof (in certain instances), with Dad in his last days to be both comforting and painful. There are so many dualities and much grey area that accompany intense and complicated grief.

Mourning Dad’s death and celebrating his 80 years of life has felt different, on some level, than I think I anticipated it would over the last year. My grief has been much heavier than what I recall experiencing in the past, with the death of other loved ones. I appreciate that makes sense, since Dad and I were very close. Also, as my sister Meg pointed out, not long after his death, Dad is the only person who knew us our entire lives, besides Mom, until he died. That insight really made an impression on me.

I can only fix my gaze for so long on my grief, before it becomes too much for me, as Megan Devine, from Refuge in Grief, explains so well. Though I am finding, almost year out, that is beginning to shift a bit. There have also been lots of *signs* over the last 12 months, that, on the days when I believe, certainly feel like they could be coming from Dad in some magical/mystical way.

Mom, Bob, Sean, Gail, my sister’s family and some close friends are gathering on Friday, to mark this first anniversary since Dad died. We’ll meet up at the cemetery and then go for a meal at Hackney’s, as we did on the day of Dad’s funeral and burial last year on July 10th. Bob and I will also be getting up and out early to set up our lawn chairs on Central Street in Evanston at 6:00 a.m., to mark our spots for the Fourth of July Parade, which is returning for the first time since the pandemic hit. That is something Mom and Dad did for our family for so many years and I appreciate the anniversary of his death will always coincide with the date that Evanston allows residents/parade goers to begin to do that.

Dad also marched in the Evanston Fourth of July Parade when we were young kids, with friends/neighbors calling themselves the “Lawndale Lawnmowers.” They wore silly costumes and danced along the route, while pushing their lawnmowers! Mom and Dad lived just around the block from Lawndale on Isabella Street for over 40 years (between 1979 and 2019). Coincedently (or not), it felt random when I chose the photo of Dad to share at the beginning of this post. I was looking through photos that I’d gathered in an album on my iPhone, to display on poster boards at Dad’s wake and funeral last year. I knew I had at least a few of Dad sitting in his favorite chair/recliner, where he spent so much time in his later years, that made me think of how he looked in the dream. However, would you believe that when I checked the date (on my iPhone) that I actually took it of him on the last Fourth of July that we celebrated together in 2019?!

The kids, Mom and I are also contemplating going to see the new Minions movie that is being released this weekend, in Dad’s honor and memory, as he got a kick out of the goofy animated characters, especially knowing there is one named Kevin! We even got Dad a Kevin Minion, with a guitar accessory, from Build-a-Bear in September 2015, for moral support/encouragement, when he was preparing for hip replacement surgery at home and then recovering in a rehabilitation center afterwards. Back then he would put a note card with the number of days until his surgery and then the number of days until he got to return home to their house on Isabella, after his time at the rehab facility. Now getting to see our Minion Kevin, when we visit Mom’s apartment, always makes us smile and think of our Dad/Grandpa Kevin.

We love you and miss you so much, Dad/Grandpa Kevin!

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