Last night I dreamt about my Dad and today my grief is grabbing my heart.

In the dream, I driving with him round South of England visiting buildings and looking at art. We were together so happy.

Only in my dream, he was getting more and more ill.

So I took to an B’nB where I know the family. It had a beautiful walled garden, and we joined in with a ruckus family singalong.

Only I saw my Dad get a heart attack, and he died in my arms.

Then I saw a French elderly couple I knew, who said why are you here. When I said with Dad, they said don’t you he died months ago.

And they drove me away.

Now, I don’t usually remember dreams.

But this is the rawness of my grief. This is the joys I had from knowing my Dad. This is the pain of his final illness.

I really miss my Dad – I just know to live full is all I can do.

One response to “Dream

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