As per usual, I always warn my dear blog readers when I'm about to share a personal post - consider yourself warned. No crafts today just the words that have been bouncing around in my heavy heart, they need a landing place. Continue reading if you'd like but if you comment, please be kind.
I woke up carrying both the feeling of despair and joy with me and I laid awake feeling completely unsettled for a long time. I couldn't sleep so I tried to analyze it but couldn't make any sense of it. Eventually I fell back to sleep. I was still thinking about it in the morning though and so I decided to write the dream down. I put it in my journal and then I went about my day and quickly forgot all about that dream.
Three weeks later, as I read what I had recorded in my journal, I understand that dream so much more clearly. I wonder a lot about that dream and why I had it. Did my subconscious know what was coming? Was it a spiritual experience? Was I being prepared for something? Was it a message about the bigger picture in life and eternity? Was it a reminder to get my priorities straight? I think I know the answer but I will keep those thoughts to myself.
So what's the importance of this dream? Well, since my home in the dream was removed let me tell you about my concept of home.
This man, my dad, he has always been my home.
Having split my life as a kid between two physical homes and communities, neither of which I really felt rooted in, I always just associated the actual idea of "Home" as being wherever he was. Home to me wasn't a physical structure, it was just him. He was my home. He was where I belonged. He was where I was loved. Even after I got married and created a life with my husband, had kids, moved a few times and now, even being settled in Colorado, when I'm asked about "home", it's still my dad.
I got word a few weeks ago that something wasn't right and he wasn't doing well, then a week later he got admitted into the hospital and for five days we, as a family, surrounded him and loved him the best we could but we knew it wasn't good. The reality of the situation was heavy and on Saturday my Dad, my home, left this earth.
I did pretty good most of the week, my emotions were certainly always on the surface and the tears flowed regularly but it wasn't until Saturday, just an hour before he left us, that the reality of my home being gone actually hit. I literally broke down and I couldn't deal with the loneliness that weighed so heavy on my heart. I tried to run away from it. I wanted to escape the pain and I didn't want to face reality. It was so hard.
As I look back to last week and even to just three days ago when he passed, I find it interesting that all along there was a sense of peace that was partnered with the pain. It's so hard to explain. I hurt so bad, the pain was definitely more dominate yet at the same time, I had a great sense of peace, too. Life is temporary. I know this, I always have, but the relationships we create, even if the person isn't physically with us, continues on. Much like in my dream, when I found my plaque with the picture of Christ on it, and felt relief, it's the same for me now. I find relief and joy in my belief that even though this life is temporary, families are eternal. And, it's through Christ that it is possible that I will be able to be with my dad again, and then, when it's time, we will both be home!
"Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave,
but not our hearts!" - Oliver Wendell Holmes