I Don't Dream of You

Since you passed away three weeks ago, I prayed that you will visit me in my dreams. I thought it would give me a measure of peace to see you, talk to you, even touch you in my dreams. It will be like old times; like you never left.

I don’t dream of you and it distresses me. I wake up often sad that another night slipped by without recollection of a rendezvous with you in my sleep. Your absence becomes even more palpable and I begin to miss you.

But when I wake up, I see you in everything that you and I shared - the home we live in, your clothes with your scent still in the closet, your car in the garage, your computers, books, music records and the guitar you used to bang on - so many things you left behind. Things that remind me of you and the life we shared.  I see you in your daughter’s eyes. I hear your laughter in your son’s voice. I feel close to you when I remember things you said or did.  I feel oddly pacified when I visit places you and I explored.

 I sense your presence in my every waking moments. You are imprinted indelibly in my mind, carved deeply in my heart; etched clearly in my soul. I don’t dream of you because you never left me.  You were never gone.  I carry you within me and death did not obliterate my remembrance of you.  I don't need to dream of you.