Tell The Others For Me, Wouldja?

Such a funny light, and strange, that flooded the road Sandy and I were standing on. In front of us was Thunderhead, but it was a mile away. Closer, and off to our left, were two very weathered houses that became one as we talked. She asked if I intended to keep them both, and I said, “You know, I thought about selling them, but there are so many memories in the front room alone– I just can’t let them go.” She nodded that she understood and we stayed there in that funny light talking about things. She said, “There’s nothing more important than family” and I said, “I believe that, too.” She was gone then and I was in the living room of Grandma Myrtle’s house, which had also magically become the room off the living room in Great Grandma Lillie’s house. The room was bare, and I could sense, in fact, that the entire house was empty for the most part, but even as this registered I heard someone call out, and recognizing the voice as Paula’s, I began walking through the empty room toward the living room in search of whoever else might be there. As I closed in on the door that separated the rooms, I knew that when I turned the corner there would be something good. I turned the corner and saw my Dad sitting there. I yelled, “Dad!” and lit up with the same funny light that Sandy and I had been standing in earlier from my happiness at seeing him. As I began walking toward him, my whole heart filled with a heavy dread, and I told myself, “Now, listen. Don’t feel too happy, because this is a dream and he could be taken away from you before you even get to him” and the fear of this happening resonated with each step, and with each step I felt the cumulative weight of the panic of losing him and my happiness at seeing him, and when I reached him and we both were still there I kissed his cheek a thousand times and told him how I’d missed him and how I loved him and how happy I was to see him. He was laughing and smiling and shaking his head at the flurry of love I brought with me, and when I asked him, “How are you, Dad?” he said, “I’m doing fine– well, really pretty great! Tell the others for me, wouldja?” and I said I would and just then Paula came in with some food she had fixed for him and as he took his plate I stood up to thank her but instead I awoke in a world where he was dead again.

12 Responses to “Tell The Others For Me, Wouldja?”

  1. What a wonderful dream! I am so happy for you that the thing you dreaded most in the dream — the disappearance did not happen. BTW, that same night, the room I was sleeping in was filled with the scent of gardenias. This is February–and even in Atlanta, they’re not in bloom.

  2. A wonderful accounting of a beautiful thing Glenn. I never wanted to be part of the “Dad is Gone Club.” In our dreams, for a little while, they can be back with us. Thanks for writing. Me=Big Fan.

  3. thank the heavens for dreams

  4. Thank you for telling us and smearing my mascara. I’m joking about the mascara. Thank you for every word you’ve ever written. I’m saving that rock I found for you.

  5. I don’t believe it was a dream. Not entirely.

    The connection of love is not easily broken. 🙂

  6. Your Dad said, “I’m doing fine-well, really pretty great. Tell the others for me, wouldja?” I believe him and thankful that he told us.

  7. He gave me a message that I long to hear everyday.

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